Blue Moon Rising
by Parlanchina
Summary: It wasn't supposed to be like this. Remus Lupin knows that living with regrets is the worst curse in the world - especially when it's all his fault... and people like him don't get second chances. Au-ish, canon compliant until OOtP. Dark themes. COMPLETE!
1. Prologue, or 'Cherries'

**Ok, ok, I know I should be working on the sequel to Dreams and False Alarms, but this one was rattling around, begging to come out, and I've hit something of a block with the other one. Besides, the last time I succumbed to inspiration, Much Ado happened, and that turned out rather well…**

**For the record, I would also like to state that Tonks is one of my favourite characters and therefore I have no intention of bashing her… but I read a story once where she was perfectly rotten to Remus and it stuck in my head – I have a hard time writing her any more.**

**Do you honestly think that I would be on here if I _did_ own Harry Potter?**

0o0o0o0

It wasn't that he didn't like her.

On the contrary, she was about as good a friend as anyone could hope for. And she was certainly kind, and loyal, and thoughtful…

_And attractive_, he allowed.

If things were different perhaps they would have stood a chance at having a decent relationship – even despite the age difference, and his poverty, and the fact that he was, in fact, a monster.

But things _weren't_ different…

And Tonks didn't seem to want to take the hint.

She had been trying to catch his eye all evening, sending wistful glances his way over the massive oak table in the kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. An Order meeting was in full swing, and he was sure that if Sirius hadn't immediately sat down beside him as it had started, she would have been right there, glancing up at him, distracting him all meeting with those big, innocent eyes and smelling of cherries.

It wasn't that he didn't like cherries, it was just that – with Tonks's apparent enthusiasm for his company – these days he couldn't get away from the scent. He longed for the time when he could happily lock himself away in his room at the top of Sirius's house and escape from it. It was cloying, like a living thing that wanted his attention, and he didn't like it one bit.

He had half expected Sirius to take her side – he was her cousin, after all, and gods knew he had spent half their years at Hogwarts trying to get Remus to walk out with what he termed 'eligible women' – but of all their mutual friends, he alone seemed to accept Remus's desire for solitude. Of course, he was the only one that really understood why solitude was necessary.

And he didn't know the half of it.


	2. Jenny

It was her smile that he'd noticed first.

Beaming out across the greenhouses in Herbology, like some kind of personal beacon, beckoning him. He couldn't for the life of him think how he hadn't noticed her before – but then Gryffindor didn't have that many classes with Hufflepuff, and one of them was History of Magic, which even he and Lily couldn't stay awake for. He knew her name, of course, and had a vague sort of idea about who she was…

He knew that she was a friendly girl, nice enough to avoid being on James's hit-list, quiet enough for Sirius not to bother romancing her, clever enough to stay out of trouble in class – but not so good a student that people paid attention.

She had a small group of friends, mostly Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and of all of them seemed to be the most unobtrusive. He'd never really thought about her before – she wasn't stunningly pretty, so few of the boys spoke about her… Staring at her across the Fanged Geraniums that they were supposed to be re-potting, he had realised that she had her own kind of beauty.

It was as if she had the sunshine saved up in her skin.

0o0o0o0

The tedious meeting concluded, Remus made his way to the main staircase, but found his way blocked by _her_. She was leaning against the doorframe in what he was sure was alluring fashion, her hair a violent pink and a coquettish smile on her face.

"We're headin' to the pub for one – want to join us?" she asked him, cocking her head to one side.

Remus smiled. She always reminded him of a bird when she did that – all bright plumage and friendly song.

"Not tonight, thank you, Nymphadora."

He knew why she let him call her that – usually even the first syllable was enough for people in the surrounding area to get a good hexing. Only Mad-Eye Moody and Charlie Weasley ever got away with it – one, because she had a very healthy respect for her mentor, and the other because she'd lost a bet to him in school. And him.

He didn't want to lead her on, really he didn't, but she had insisted.

"Sure I can't tempt you?"

"I'm sure – but I appreciate the effort," he added, kindly. She really was a good friend…

Tonks looked mildly put out, but hid her disappointment and turned to ask Kingsley Shacklebolt the same question.

He slipped out of the room behind her, and had made it nearly all the way up the stairs before she tripped over the awful troll's foot umbrella stand in the hallway, and set Mrs Black's portrait screaming.

He closed the door to his room gratefully, muttering a quick muffling spell to keep the worst of the cursing out.

He sighed, leaning against the door and looking around his room.

It had been kind of Sirius to offer him a place here: he had been thrown out of so many places, it had been novel to have someone actually wanting him to stay – even if it was partly to keep Sirius company.

Twelve years in Azkaban had taken their toll on his old friend, and he was glad to do anything he could for him, particularly when Harry and his friends were away at school. Sirius got very lonely during school terms, and the fact that he was more or less confined to the house didn't really help.

Remus ran his hair through his greying brown hair as the smell of cherries faded away. His room smelled like him – which meant that to him it smelled like nothing, really… just old books and parchment. It was always stronger when he came in, like it was welcoming him home.

Today there was a hint of cotton, too.

He closed his eyes and breathed it in.

Cotton, and roses, and honey, and just a hint of soil…

"Are you here?" he whispered.

0o0o0o0

Sirius had watched Remus practically make a run for it up the stairs. He didn't blame him, really…

Tonks was a lovely girl (of course she was, she was related to him!), but it was clear that she held a sizable torch for his old friend, and Remus plainly didn't want to know.

He would have to sit her down and have a talk with her at some point – though he wished that Remus would man-up and do it before it was really necessary.

But he knew he wouldn't.

Sirius sighed.

"Are you all right?" Molly asked.

"Just a bit stir-crazy," he said, turning back to the kitchen.

Molly Weasley, everyone's surrogate mother, had stayed behind to 'tidy things up' – which more or less meant that she intended to cook a meal for him and Remus. She always thought that they looked thin. Not that Sirius minded, he was no great shakes in the kitchen department, and years of abject poverty had meant that Remus mostly subsisted on toast these days.

She gave him a sympathetic look, and handed him a mug of tea.

Sirius breathed in the tannin fumes.

He had no idea what Molly did to it, but a cup of tea from her was like liquid gold. It calmed you down, warmed you up and made you feel like you could do just about anything.

He sat at the empty table as she bustled around, washing dishes.

"I've got a House Elf for that," he said, conversationally. It never worked.

"That's alright, dear, I don't mind."

Sirius nodded, and let it go.

He suspected that, with all her children either living away or being at school, she needed the company as much as he did – especially with Arthur taking shifts guarding the prophecy.

And Percy.

He'd never actually met the missing Weasley boy, and Harry's description of him hadn't done him any favours, but what he'd done to Arthur and Molly was nearly unforgivable.

If he'd had a mum like Molly he never would have left home…

Still, the boy was young, and foolish, and would probably come around in a few years. Sirius hoped for Molly's sake that it was sooner rather than later.

She was apparently thinking about Percy too, as she sniffed and wiped her eyes on her apron before starting to chop some onions. It never fooled Sirius, the onion trick, and he went to lean on the counter next to her.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he tried again, and Molly gave a quiet laugh.

"You always say that, but I know you, Sirius. I've never seen a cleaner plate than yours."

He chuckled.

"True."

"And poor Remus always looks so thin, and pale."

Sirius nodded, it worried him too.

"To be fair, Molly, he always looks like that," he said. "I've never seen him with a tan."

Well, maybe one summer, a long time ago…

"He seems quieter than ever at the moment," she said, sadly.

"Well he would," said Sirius, quietly, and immediately wished he hadn't.

"Why?" Molly asked.

Of all the wonderful things Molly was, she was ruthless when it came to secrets – at least, secrets that weren't being kept for someone's good.

Realising he was caught, he simply shrugged.

"Sirius," she prodded, putting down her knife.

He stared back at her for a good minute before cracking. With six sons and one daughter, Molly was an expert in collecting information – it was a wonder that the Order wasn't using her as a spy in the Ministry.

He sighed.

"I – I shouldn't say anything," he started. "But suffice it to say that a friend of his – a very close friend, died around now… it's the anniversary in a couple of weeks. It was years ago now, but it hit him hard."

"Oh, the poor man…" said Molly, with feeling. It was hard not to like Remus, and very hard not to feel sorry for him.

"Yeah… Just don't mention it to him, eh?" Sirius said, awkwardly. "It's hard enough for him as it is – and he doesn't even talk to _me_ about it, let alone anyone else."

Molly looked like she would very much like to ask him all about it, but she nodded, and started chopping potatoes.

Sirius left her to it, and headed to the Library.

He had a bottle of Odgen's Finest stashed behind one of the bookcases; he was reasonably sure that Molly knew about it, but she hadn't said anything, for which he was grateful.

He didn't _need_ to drink all the time, not like he had in his youth (going cold turkey in Azkaban and the subsequent twelve years without a drop had cured him of some of his vices, at least), but it was nice to know that there was some on hand if he needed it.

Like now.

He poured himself a small measure, carefully tucking the bottle back behind the stack. It was lower than he remembered, and he suspected that Remus had also felt the need for a drink recently. Sirius wouldn't begrudge him a drop. After more than a decade of hating him, Remus had welcomed him back with open arms almost overnight, sending him inconspicuous packages of food while he tried to get to Majorca, letting him crash in his god-awful flat last year, while Harry competed in the Triwizard Tournament. It was good to have his friend back.

He pulled a box down from the top shelf, blowing the dust off it and carrying it over to the armchair by the fire; he set his glass down on the tiles.

It had been a long time since he'd opened the box. He'd thought about it a few times, but it still hurt a hell of a lot, and he didn't want Remus to see…

Carefully, he lifted the lid and peered inside.

Time had been kinder to the photographs inside than they had been to him.

He picked up the first picture, a bittersweet smile on his lips. The boys in the picture – what were they, fourteen? Fifteen? They had had no idea what the world outside the Castle was like…

They were grinning ear-to-ear, and all four of them soaking wet. Sirius remembered the occasion, happily. James had _accidentally_ tripped Frank Longbottom up in the corridor after Charms, and Frank had _accidentally_ pushed him in the Lake, later that afternoon. He'd sportingly agreed to take a picture of them with Remus's battered Muggle camera, claiming that all was forgiven, particularly if it meant that Alice Roberts would fawn over him all afternoon again.

He moved to the next one, where they were all much younger – for some reason he had Peter (that _bastard_) in a headlock, while Remus looked on from over the top of his book, shaking his head and tutting.

He stopped as his fingers found the next rectangle of shiny paper. This was the one… he knew it had to be here, somewhere…

Late autumn, seventh year… there had been a day of unexpected sunshine and they'd all piled out into the still-warm grounds, wearing scarves and throwing their coats on the ground so their trousers didn't get wet.

He and James had been teasing Remus all day – but he hadn't seemed to mind… he hadn't minded anything, really, when she was around. Sirius sighed. She had been so good for him…

They had wandered off to torment Snape for a while, and when they had come back, she and Remus had been lying in the long grass, staring at the clouds. They were sprawled out in opposite directions, heads next to one another, her dark gold hair fanning out around her head like a halo, and shining brightly in the sun. James had nicked the camera, quick as you like, and had taken a picture before they could stop him – the children in the picture were on the brink of laughter, just about to reach up and grab the camera from James.

Sirius sighed heavily.

It had been good while it lasted.

0o0

Lost in his thoughts, he heard Molly Floo out and stretched. He'd been in the Library for hours, just remembering. He padded up to Remus's room, knocking lightly on the door.

"What?" he asked, sounding muffled.

"Molly made cottage pie – you want some?" Sirius replied, but he already knew the answer. Remus had never been good at coping at this time of year, and his already small appetite shrank to match his mood.

"You go ahead," he said. "I'm not hungry – save me some, though, yeah?"

"Yeah," said Sirius, and left his friend to it.

When they had been in school, James had once remarked that the two of them seemed to be in a competition for who could eat the most… but that had been when meals were free, and when Remus could still meet his own eyes in the mirror…

Times were hard for dreamers.

0o0o0o0

Her smile… like glowing lamplight – or bright as sunshine…

That had been the first thing.

Then it was her laugh – it was quite a normal laugh, as they went, but he knew it was her, even before he turned around.

She was laughing at something Frank had said… they seemed to be quite good friends.

Remus turned back to his dinner before they noticed him looking, and wondered if she even knew who he was.

0o0

There it was again, that laugh – he turned to find her – sat with her friends at the back of the Three Broomsticks. This time it was her hair that he noticed. It was a dusky gold in the Castle – and it had seemed much brighter in the Greenhouses – but in here, in the flickering lamplight, it shone like it was streaked with the colours of summer.

"You're staring again," said Sirius, conversationally, and he tore his eyes away from her.

"I wasn't staring at anyone," Remus said, defensively.

"Oh, come off it," Sirius scoffed. "You haven't taken your eyes of her since Christmas."

Unable to dignify this with a response, Remus scowled at him, going a bit pink.

"Why don't you talk to her?" Sirius asked, leaning across the table. "Don't ignore me, Moony."

"You know why," he muttered, quietly, but Sirius heard it.

"Don't give me that," he scolded, and Remus rolled his eyes at him. "It's a stupid reason and you know it." He peered at him through the murk of the pub. "Honestly mate, you're your own worst enemy."

He had been saved from commenting further by the return of James and Peter, and he talked loudly with them until Sirius was forced to give up and join in.

0o0

"Hi."

Remus looked up from his Transfiguration homework to find her standing right there in front of him – he'd been so engrossed that he hadn't even noticed her come in. He glanced around, the Library was fuller than usual and there weren't many seats left.

"Hello," he said, looking back up at her. He couldn't remember the last time they had even spoken…

"Mind if I sit here?" she asked, and he realised that her voice was lovely, too.

"Oh – sure –" he cleared a pile of books out of her way and watched her sit down opposite from him, warily.

"Thanks," she said and grinned. "I don't know what's got into everyone, it's usually much quieter at this time of night."

Remus nodded, that was why he generally chose to study at this hour.

"I heard Slughorn set the fifth years a really nasty essay on the Draught of Living Death," he offered.

"Ah, well that would explain it," she said, pulling her parchment and quill out of her bag. "He's not normally that vindictive…"

"Perhaps he ran out of crystallised pineapple," Remus guessed, and she laughed.

His heart leapt at the thought that she was laughing at something _he'd_ said.

"Wouldn't be surprised," she giggled, and he stared at her eyes. They crinkled up when she laughed, somehow making her even prettier. Her eyes were an odd, greenish blue colour that seemed to shift with the light.

How had he never looked at her eyes before?

They were extraordinary.

Abruptly, he realised that he was staring at her, and looked back at his homework, all ability to concentrate entirely shattered.

Forcing himself to read the passage about dangerous Transfiguration accidents again, and copied it out on the parchment in front of him, carefully.

He risked a glance up at her…

She was frowning slightly, and absently chewing the end of her quill.

He looked around quickly, to see if they were being observed; satisfied that no one would notice, he returned his gaze to her.

Her fingernails were still stained with soil – Herbology was her favourite subject, he knew – and her hair was tucked back into a loose plait. She must have just come from the Greenhouses… he knew that Professor Sprout was having trouble with some of her Screechsnaps, which had caught some kind of wasting disease. She must have volunteered to help.

A tendril of hair loosed itself from her plait and fell across her eyes; she tucked it behind her ear without a thought.

Remus found himself wondering what it would be like to touch her hair. It would be soft, he decided, and very probably silky.

The tendril escaped again, and she put it back with a small huff; he longed to tuck it back for her.

It was unfortunate that at this point, she looked up and caught him watching her.

He blushed so hard that he was sure that she could feel the heat from his face; he glared at the page in front of him, silently cursing it, himself, and anyone nearby.

"Remus?"

He forced himself to look up at her: with a jolt he saw that she was quite pink too, and smiling slightly.

"Have you done the bit on accidentally replacing body parts with vegetables?" he stared at her in incomprehension. "Only I can just find one reference to people turning their ears into something, and that's ridiculous – I mean, it happens roughly once a month around here… I just wondered if you'd spotted any…"

He shook his head very slightly and cleared his throat.

"You could try this," he managed, passing her a slim and rather obscure textbook called Mysterious Magical Maladies; Peter had bought it him for Christmas as a joke. "It's got some horrific illustrations…"

"Urgh," she said, opening it to a random page. "It certainly does – thanks."

"No problem," he said, and turned back to his own essay, wondering how the hell he'd managed to get away with blatantly staring at her.

They worked quietly for another half an hour before he started packing his things up.

"Finished?" she asked, looking up.

"I was mostly done, anyway," he said.

"Well you do have a bit of a reputation for being a clever-clogs," she said, closing Mysterious Magical Maladies and holding it out for him.

Unable to decide whether being a clever-clogs was a good thing or not, he waved it away.

"You can borrow it," he said.

"Really?" she asked. "Thanks – I'll give it back in class."

He smiled back at her – he couldn't help it.

"I'll see you…" he said, awkwardly, and hurried off to Prefect Duty, not daring to look back.

She watched him go, thoughtfully.

0o0

"Oy, Casanova!" Frank called, as they hurried between classrooms.

Sirius turned around and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, oh insistent one?"

"Not you," said Frank, catching them up. "Remus."

As one, the Marauders stared at him as if he'd grown an extra head.

"_Remus?_" James repeated, incredulously.

"Yep – you've got a secret admirer," said Frank cheerfully. "Been grilling me about you all morning… you seem to have made quite an impression."

"That's our Moony," said Sirius, proudly. "Knew he had it in him!"

"Shut up, Sirius," he hissed.

"Well, who is it?" Peter asked, interested.

"I'm not telling," Frank grinned.

"Oh, come on Frank, that's just mean!" James whined. "You can't leave us hanging like that! Think of poor Moony!" He ruffled Remus's hair to make his point. "He looks so forlorn, now."

Frank looked at him.

"I'd say that he looks more bewildered than anything else," he observed, fairly, then shrugged. "Sorry boys – I was sworn to secrecy!"

He flashed them another grin before hurrying off, out of hexing range.

"She's hot, though, right?" Sirius yelled, making quite a lot of people stare at him.

Somewhere in the distance, Frank nodded, making Remus descend from the hot pink that Frank's announcement had brought out to a deep crimson.

"Moony!" Sirius grinned, rounding on him. "Who is she? You have to know!"

"I haven't a clue!" he retorted, truthfully enough. Who would ask Frank about him?

"_Really?_" James said, incredulous. "This is worse than we thought – Padfoot, it's time we thought up a battle-plan for getting Moony a love-life…"

He had been very grateful to sit down in Potions with Peter, as far away from them as he could get.

"You really don't know?" Peter asked as they shredded caterpillars.

"No idea," said Remus.

"You're lucky," the other boy huffed. "At least someone likes you…"

0o0

He'd been looking around nervously all week, trying to figure out who could have been asking about him, and hoping fervently that it had nothing whatsoever to do with his Furry Little Problem.

He was only half listening to Professor Sprout as she instructed them to pick partners from a different house – James and Sirius groaned loudly behind him. He jumped a little when his textbook landed on the table and she sat down next to him.

"Want to be partners?" she asked, and he nodded, surprised.

He shot confused glances at her throughout Sprout's explanation of Shrivelfig maintenance. _She_ couldn't have been the one talking to Frank, could she? They were certainly friends, but…

"Pass the secateurs?" she asked, and he did so, trying to concentrate on the plant in front of him.

"That is a really ugly plant," he observed, staring at it. Its stems and leaves were a dusky purple and looked a lot like they had been made of wax and left in a warm room for too long. The flowers were an unpleasant yellowy green, turning to brown as they matured and the fruit developed.

"It is rather," she laughed. "But it's not all bad…" She held up a flower for him and he obediently smelled it.

"Vanilla?" he said, surprised.

"Hardly anyone notices," she said, smiling. "It looks so ugly that people assume it'll smell bad too – hardly anyone gets near enough to realise they're wrong."

He chuckled.

"Except you."

"Well, I am a little odd," she allowed.

"In a good way," Remus said, and her cheeks went pink. She was still blushing slightly when they cleared away their pots, and he realised that he really liked it when she blushed.

"See you next week?" she asked over her shoulder, as she walked across the grounds with her friends.

0o0

By the end of May, Herbology was definitely Remus's favourite subject. He could be in all manner of moods and she would walk in, drop her bag next to his and make him grin like an idiot for the better part of two hours. He was even volunteering to help Professor Sprout, developing a tan under the Greenhouse glass, probably for the first time in his life.

She really understood plants, he'd discovered, and they seemed to understand _her_. He had seen her subdue a Venomous Tentacula that had been trying to eat Peter with a few soothing words – and even the mundane plants in the Greenhouses seemed healthier around her, as if they were somehow showing off.

She had that effect on him, too.

Since their first partnered session he had been reading up on the subject, and had even managed to surprise her with some little know facts about Leaping Toadstools.

Their friendship had not gone unnoticed by the Marauders, who teased Remus mercilessly about it every chance they got, but he didn't care, as long as Tuesday afternoons could be spent in the Greenhouses with her.

They studied together on Thursdays too, now, when the Library was quiet, and the boys had decided to leave them to it – he suspected that Sirius had had something to do with that, after they'd had a long and embarrassing chat about how, clearly, there were different ways to win a girl's heart. Sirius preferred the quick way, and hadn't been overly surprised when Remus had gone for the slow way.

He was just a bit surprised that it was actually working.

Remus had been working up his nerve to ask her out for weeks now – almost managing it at the end of each study session, but just managing to fall short each time.

It galled him a little, and part of him was worried that if he didn't do something soon, someone else would ask her out and she'd say yes (of course) and he'd lose his chance.

He had been thinking about it all afternoon. It was a Friday, so they were in Defence Against the Dark Arts, learning to tell the difference between Wraiths and Wights; he knew this subject inside out, so his mind was wandering – as it so often did – to her.

Since he'd first noticed her he'd discovered that there were a myriad of things that he'd never realised, like how soft and pink her lips were, or the way she developed tiny dimples when she smiled, or the way she chewed her hair if a quill was unavailable.

Today it was the curve of her neck.

As the days had turned warmer, more and more people were unbuttoning the top button of their shirts during the day, meaning that he got tantalising glimpses of smooth skin under the bottle-green glass of the Greenhouse. At the weekend, he made sure to sit facing the Hufflepuff table, where she'd be eating with her friends, wearing thinner things than her uniform, with lower neck-lines that made his pulse speed up; once, she'd had on a top that had left her neck and shoulders bare and he hadn't been able to stand up for quite some time.

He knew this was becoming a dangerous obsession, and sometimes he worried about that, but mostly he just concentrated on the shape of her soft skin, and the way it would feel, or taste, or smell.

Oh, and her _smell_. It was subtle, largely because unlike her peers she didn't wear perfume, and when he had finally noticed it around him it had been inescapable. He couldn't get enough of it.

It was a quiet smell – it went with her personality – a delicate mixture of cotton, and roses, and honey, and (since she spent so much time in the Greenhouses) soil.

It crept up on him as he walked towards the Common Room, lost in his thoughts. James, Sirius and Peter had gone on ahead, having tired of trying to talk to him when he was 'Mooning' over her, as they put it, so when he nearly walked into her he was completely on his own.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" he said, managing to avoid a collision at the last second.

"No worries," she smiled, as her friends giggled at him. "You look like you're in a world of your own."

He gulped and nodded.

_Why_ did they have to move around in packs?

He watched her shrug and walk away, the girls twittering around him.

They were nearly at the end of the corridor when he plucked up the courage to call out to her.

"Jenny!" he called, and she turned back, waving to her friends that she'd catch up.

It had taken every shred of his Gryffindor courage to walk over to her, and his heart was in his throat as he finally stood in front of her, hoping that she wouldn't notice how nervous he was.

He cleared his throat.

"?" he said, all in a rush.

Jenny frowned, and mouthed some of the words to make sure that she'd heard him correctly. Her eyes widened.

"Did you just ask if I'd go to Hogsmeade with you tomorrow?" she asked, turning a little red.

"Er – possibly," Remus admitted, glad that he wouldn't have to say it out loud again. "It's ok if you don't want to though –" he added, hurriedly.

"Ok," she said, a smile playing about her lips.

Remus stared at her.

"Really?"

"Yes," she laughed. "Unless this is going to be some kind of prank where Sirius somehow manages to throw me into the Lake…"

"No – at least I bloody hope not," he said.

"Great – so, I'll see you tomorrow, then…"

"Great! By the fountain in the Clocktower Courtyard?" he suggested.

"It's a date," she said, almost shyly.

"Great," he said again, cursing his vocabulary for abandoning him in his hour of need.

Jenny blushed again, and hurried off; the sound of muffled giggles from just around the corner suggested that her friends hadn't gone very far, but he didn't care.

He walked back to the Gryffindor Tower feeling about eight feet tall and looking very much like the cat that had got the cream.


	3. Memories

He'd dreamed about her again, and woken up with his arm slung out as though he could keep her with him when he woke. He sighed, and pulled it back under the covers.

He'd tried to forget her, when he was younger, but it hadn't worked. There didn't seem to be much point these days; he needed the memory of her beside him.

He'd been to her grave a week or so before, taking her flowers and sitting there with her until dark. His hadn't been the only tribute, and he'd wondered – as he always had – who had brought her the spray of freesias. He'd recognised Sirius's handwriting on the bouquet of roses, and had felt a rush of warmth for his friend, who would have had to sneak out of Grimmauld Place just to get them and bring them here.

It was good to know that she wasn't forgotten.

He pressed his face into that the pillow that he always thought of as hers. The ghost of her smell still lingered there, even now; he breathed it in deeply, savouring every second of it.

There was an almighty crash from downstairs, followed by the sounds of Sirius trying to shout louder than the portrait of his mother, suggesting that he had slept in again; he pulled his head out his sanctuary and stared blearily at the alarm clock that James had given him when he was fifteen. He had never been a morning person.

It was nearly lunchtime.

He groaned and dragged himself out of bed and over to the adjoining bathroom, missing her scent intensely.

0o0o0o0

Ron dragged his trunk upstairs, trying not to make too much noise – they'd already set the vociferous Mrs Black off once when they had arrived, and he'd had enough screeching for one day. The twins Apparated on the floor above him and stuck their identical tongues out at him as he struggled with his trunk. He paused long enough to make a rude gesture at them and carried on, huffing and puffing his way to the second floor, where he and Harry would be sharing a room.

"Alright there, Ron?"

He looked up to see Remus Lupin coming down from the landing above.

"Yes thanks, Professor," he said, with a smile. After several months with Dolores Umbridge, it was really good to see their sole sane and non-evil Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Remus, please," he said, and grabbed the other end of Ron's trunk.

"Thanks," said Ron, as they manhandled it into the bedroom behind him.

"Had a decent term?" Remus asked, as they deposited it on one of the beds.

"Apart from the torture, bad teaching, interrogations and piles of homework, it's not too bad," Ron said, shrugging. "Easter felt like a long time coming."

Remus's face darkened, and Ron filled him in on Umbridge's latest Educational Decrees.

"I think I'd like to meet this woman, one day," Remus said, with the barest hint of a growl. "Preferably on a full moon."

"I'd like to give her a good smack," Ron admitted. "But she's a teacher, and with the Ministry, so what can you do…"

"Well, the job's still cursed, so hopefully we won't have to worry about her for much longer," said Harry, as he dragged his trunk in. "Hi Remus – thanks for the books, by the way, they were great."

"You're welcome," the older wizard replied, with a grin. "I've heard nothing but bad things about you since," he said, "which I'm taking as a good sign."

Harry grinned, but it quickly faded.

"The D.A. was great, while it lasted," he said. "But I really didn't want to get anyone into trouble – particularly Dumbledore."

"That wasn't your fault," Remus assured him. "If you weren't teaching people how to defend themselves they'd have no chance in their O.W.L.s – or out in the real world, for that matter."

Harry gave him a half-smile that suggested that he didn't believe him.

"How've you been?" he asked.

"Not bad," Remus said, with a shrug. "I'm glad you're all back though, Sirius is beginning to go out of his mind with nothing to do all day – I even caught him reading last week, apparently on purpose, too."

Harry and Ron grimaced.

"He must hate being cooped up like this," said Ron, with sympathy, and Remus agreed.

"He's been talking about you lot getting here for weeks," he said, smiling. "Better see how he's getting on before his enthusiasm gets away from him again."

Ron followed Harry and Remus down the stairs, waving to Hermione and Ginny, who were sharing a room on the floor below.

Sure enough, Sirius was in high spirits, bouncing around the kitchen 'helping' his mum unpack several large bags of food and stock the under-used cupboards.

He was teasing her good-naturedly, being constantly under her feet and popping up in front of her every few minutes. Flustered as she was, she seemed to appreciate the attention.

It was probably distracting her from the continued lack of Percy, Ron decided, with a grimace. He hated to think about Percy, these days, partly because of how angry it made him, and partly because he missed his pompous presence. Not that he'd admit that to anyone.

"That's _it_," his mum cried, as Sirius stole a biscuit from under her very nose. "Out, the lot of you, and let me get on!"

His dad ushered them out, smiling.

"Best get out while the going's good," he said, scattering children everywhere.

Remus led the flood of humanity to the Black Library, which was the closest thing to a comfortable living room that Grimmauld Place had, since it served as a general dumping ground for ancient armchairs and (lately) board games abandoned by seriously bored Order members.

Hermione was excited to discover a couple of Muggle games in the pile, and she quickly set one of them up on the floor. Remus, happy to be free of the responsibility of entertaining anyone, drifted over to an armchair and produced a book from somewhere, content to enjoy the babble of voices around him. Sirius and the twins immediately colonised the table, from where the occasional guffaw escaped. Ron was pretty sure they were planning future mayhem, so he left them to it and watched Hermione, Harry, Ginny and his dad play something called 'Mouse Trap'. His dad was having a whale of a time, since Hermione was letting him build the strange contraption that seemed to be necessary to play and way taking shape around the edge of the board.

It appeared to be a game that depending largely on luck, so Ron quickly grew bored, and cast around for something else to do until the machine thing was built and whatever impending doom intended for the little plastic men actually occurred. From the components, it looked like that part could be quite interesting.

His eyes fell on an old black box that was tucked under the armchair by the fire. It looked innocent enough, and Sirius always insisted that they should treat Grimmauld Place as their own… the lid wasn't even on properly. He'd never been able to resist a puzzle, as four and a half years worth of getting into trouble at Hogwarts attested.

He glanced around: everyone else was thoroughly occupied, so he scooted closer under the pretence of getting closer to the fire.

A photograph was poking out of the top of the box, and he craned closer to look at it (on the basis that if he didn't actually touch it, he couldn't do much harm): someone was jumping up and down as if they were trying to get in the frame of the camera, grinning broadly… if he didn't know better, Ron would have assumed that the troublemaker in the picture was Harry, but this being very probably Sirius's mysterious box of pictures, he guessed that it was James Potter.

He smiled: James had the same devil-may-care look that Harry got when they were planning something – he could really see why everyone said how much he looked like his father. If they had stood next to one another with their eyes shut he probably wouldn't have been able to tell them apart – except for the scar.

He looked about the same age as Harry was now, and his Gryffindor uniform was messy – even his glasses were askew. Vaguely, Ron wondered what in Merlin's name they'd been up to _that_ time; the crimson blur at the side of the picture resolved itself into bed hangings, and he realised that James was probably jumping on his bed in the dormitory.

He stifled a laugh. He'd tell Harry that evening and they could creep down and grab the box when everyone was sleeping. Harry would love to see his dad having fun – and there might be pictures of Lily Potter and Sirius and Remus in there too.

Still grinning, he looked over at the game of 'Mouse Trap' as the contraption began to rattle – a little steel ball had been released and was causing some very specific havoc centring around a boot and a hanging cage. He watched it fall with amusement.

"What were you looking at, Ron?" his mother asked. He had been so absorbed by the picture and the game that he hadn't even noticed her come in: she was holding a tray filled with mugs of tea and a promising looking plate of biscuits.

"Er –" he said, and glanced at the box. Well, why not? Harry would still get to see them, and he could ask Sirius and Remus about whatever the hell was going on. "I think there's a picture of Harry's dad down here."

Everyone turned to look at him – except Sirius, he noted, who had frozen in place.

"Really?" asked Remus, interested.

"Let's see," said Harry, excitedly.

Ron extracted the box and pushed it over to him.

Harry let out a snort of laughter at the picture of his dad jumping around the frame, and handed it up to Remus, who chuckled.

"Fifth year, if I'm not mistaken," he said. "He always did get a bit hyperactive the night before a Quidditch match."

Sirius nodded, but Ron couldn't help but notice that he still looked shifty – and worried. He kept shooting glances from the box to Remus, as if there was something in there that he didn't want his friend to see.

This puzzled Ron, given how close the two men were, and he looked at Remus. There was nothing in his demeanour other than pleasant surprise.

Sirius looked like he would very much like to snatch the box up and do some selective editing before the rooms' inhabitants got to see any more, but Harry was already pulling handfuls of pictures out, beaming happily and delightedly showing them to Hermione and Ginny, who were craning over his shoulder to see.

"Spread them out on the floor so we can all see," said George, and Harry agreed, moving the box out of the way and putting each picture down as he looked at them.

Ron snorted.

The one closest to him suggested that the Marauders had had a close encounter with the Giant Squid – all four of them were sopping wet and looking very pleased with themselves.

There were pictures of Sirius and James in their Quidditch robes, pictures of Remus trying and failing not to laugh at whatever everyone else was doing, pictures of Sirius with Peter (the bastard) in a headlock, pictures of James talking to a very harassed looking Lily, pictures of everyone in their dress robes…

He gave a start.

"Isn't that Neville's dad?" he asked, as Harry dropped a picture of a group of boys sprawled by the Lake: Remus and Frank Longbottom appeared to be engaged in a furious chess match in the foreground. They were largely being ignored by James, Sirius and Peter, who were poring over a scroll of parchment, their expressions suggesting that they were more than up to something.

"Yes," said Remus, sadly. "He was chess captain at Hogwarts… I only beat him a couple of times."

"Alice took that," said Sirius, quietly. "Neville's mum."

Remus chuckled.

"She said if we were going to be boring then she felt perfectly entitled to make off with my camera."

Everyone was quiet for a minute – they had met Neville's parents for the first time that Christmas, and none of the children could yet cope with the thought that they couldn't even recognise their own son

"Can we get copies of these?" Harry asked, suddenly. "I'd love to have them around – and I think Neville would appreciate seeing the ones of his mum and dad."

He looked up at his Godfather, who looked strangely reticent.

"Oh, go on, Sirius, it would mean the world to Neville."

_And to you_, thought Ron, but he knew Harry was unlikely to admit it.

"Of course you can," said Sirius, at last; Remus looked at him oddly.

"What a good idea," said his dad, beaming. "I'll take them down to Tucker's tomorrow – they should be done by the end of the Easter break."

"I wouldn't mind a few copies, too," said Remus. "I didn't know you still had these."

"Nor did I mate," said Sirius. "I found them a couple of months ago, but I…"

he trailed off, and everyone filled in the blank as 'was building myself up to looking at them'.

"Who's that?" Ginny asked, pulling another picture out of the box. Everybody craned to look.

It was a picture of Remus and a very pretty girl, lying on their backs in the grass… he'd never seen his old Professor look so happy. He glanced up at him: Remus had an extraordinary expression on his face – it was somewhere between shock and despair, and something else… something like _hunger_… It was quite a frightening look for someone who was usually so private.

He looked over at Sirius, who had gone quite pale, and was staring at his friend in alarm.

Remus took the picture out of Ginny's unresisting fingers.

"Jenny," said Sirius, who seemed to have found his voice – though it was a good deal gruffer than usual. Remus was still staring, unblinking, at the picture in his hands, so he continued, clearing his throat. "She was in our year – Hufflepuff. Nice girl…"

"I'd forgotten he'd taken this…" Remus said, in a strangled voice.

Every pair of eyes in the room were swivelling back and forth between the two old friends; the tension could have been cut with a knife.

"She drowned," said Sirius, quietly.

"She slipped," said Remus, his eyes never leaving the face of the laughing girl in front of him.

Sirius looked away.

"Yeah."

There was a tense silence as everyone tried to look at something that wouldn't look back. Ron felt his ears turning pink; if he'd known what the contents of the box might do to Remus, he would have stayed far away from it, pictures of his best friend's father or no. He picked at the hem of his jeans and tried not to catch Harry or Hermione's eyes.

Just when the atmosphere was getting too much for them all, the door bell rang, making everyone jump and Sirius's mother's portrait start screaming again.

Ron looked up in time to see his mother get to her feet and hurry out of the room; Sirius and his dad were both staring at Remus, who didn't appear to have noticed the commotion. Hermione and Ginny ran out of the room to close the dark velvet curtains over Mrs Black's portrait.

The burble of voices in the corridor suggested that a few of the Order members had arrived – he knew there was a meeting later, but it seemed that they'd come over early to see their young friends.

Tonks stuck her head around the door.

"Wotcher you lot!" she said.

There was a sort of rumble of hellos from around the room, from everyone except Remus.

"You ignoring me, Remus?" she asked, cheekily.

He looked up at her, startled, and frowned, as if her presence didn't quite fit into his head right now.

"You alright?" she asked, coming in and laying a hand on his arm.

Ron exchanged a look with Harry as Remus visibly flinched, pulled his arm away from Tonks and stalked out of the room, nearly knocking Hermione flat as she tried to come back in.

Fred and George both swore. Ron didn't blame them; he'd never seen any of the adults like this.

Sirius was on his feet and after his friend in an instant.

"Oof!" It sounded like his Mum had been knocked off her feet. "Remus, wha-?"

"Steady on, Sirius," said a deep, surprised voice.

"Oh, thank you Kingsley…"

"What's got into them?" asked Mad Eye Moody, gruffly, as he lumbered into the room.

"Er…" said Harry.

"We were looking through some old photographs," his dad said, uncomfortably. "And Remus found one that upset him…"

"Sirius went after him," said Fred, still looking stunned.

They could hear him calling up the stairs; somewhere high in the house a door slammed, and Sirius swore.

Everybody's eyes followed the sounds of Sirius banging his way back down two floors of stairs and slamming his own door shut.

The muffled sound of cursing in the hall suggested that Ginny had struck a pre-emptive attack on Mrs Black.

In the awkward silence that followed, Harry and Ron started clearing the photographs up and putting them back in the box.

"Well," said his mum brightly, "I'll get lunch started…"

"I'll help!" said Ginny, with far too much enthusiasm. There was a near stampede for the kitchen, where – even if people didn't feel like helping to cook – the atmosphere would be friendlier and they might get a cup of tea.

As he followed Harry out of the room he passed Tonks, who was staring up the stairs with a hurt and angry expression on her face. Her usually colourful hair was losing some of its vibrancy, and as he started to climb the stairs he heard the front door open and close.

"That was unexpected," said Harry, sitting down on his bed.

"Yeah…"

"I've never seen Remus like that…"

"Or Sirius," said Ron, thoughtfully. "Did you see the way he was looking at him?"

Harry nodded, slowly.

They looked at one another for a few moments, both coming to the conclusion that they probably shouldn't mention this 'Jenny' – at least in front of any of the adults.

"Are there any more of her in there?" he asked, suddenly curious.

They looked through the remaining pictures for nearly an hour, but there was no sign of the laughing girl that had so affected their older friends. It was as if after that first picture had been taken she'd simply vanished.

0o0o0o0

He didn't know how long he'd been sat there, his back against the bed, just staring at her. He'd forgotten her smile.

He still remembered how beautiful it was, of course – how could he forget when she was still with him? But he'd forgotten the shining, aching power of it.

He traced the curve of her cheek in the picture – they'd been reaching for the camera, he recalled – but now it looked like she was reaching out to _him_.

He tore his thoughts away from her as someone knocked gently on the door.

"Remus?"

Hermione. She always smelled of peppermint, probably because of her parents' dental practice. Peppermint and parchment.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Er – Molly says that lunch is ready, if you want some – it's lasagne."

"I'll be right down," he said. "Thanks."

He listened to her hesitate outside the door, as if she didn't quite believe him, before setting off down the stairs.

He sighed.

He hoped that he hadn't reacted too strangely to seeing the photograph. He couldn't honestly remember much beyond the bittersweet anguish of seeing her again – the picture had taken him right back to that afternoon in the grounds when they'd stared up at the clouds and talked for hours about nothing whatsoever. It had been one of the brightest days of his life.

He stood and dusted off his long limbs before walking over to the mantelpiece over the small, ornate fireplace that had been installed a few centuries previously; after some thought, he propped the photograph up against a stack of books. He paused to look at it for a few minutes before heading downstairs.

The smell of lasagne hit him one landing down, and he was surprised to find his mouth watering. While he was used to hunger, having so little money most of the time, he'd almost forgotten about food in the past few weeks, and he suddenly found that he was ravenous.

Everyone looked up from their food when he came in, and the resulting silence suggested that he'd been more than a bit odd about the picture. He rubbed his neck, embarrassed, and the occupants of the dingy kitchen became abruptly and thoroughly interested in their dinners.

He sat down between Sirius and George Weasley, feeling rather uncomfortable. Molly set a plate piled high with lasagne in front of him; glancing around he noted that he had easily twice as much food than everyone else. Clearly, Molly was feeling sorry for him.

Still, food was food, and when it came to Molly's cooking there really was no parallel. He dug in, steadily and enthusiastically eating more than in one sitting than he had in months. It felt good to have an appetite again, and he ignored the puzzled looks his surrogate family was giving him.

He didn't hold back when it came to pudding, either, and earned an approving – albeit slightly worried – smile from Molly as she cleared away his unusually clean plate.

It wasn't long before the children were being ushered out of the kitchen in time for yet another interminable Order meeting, squabbling all the way. He suspected that they were listening in somehow, and had occasionally spotted some of Fred and George's inventions near the kitchen door. For all that certain members of the Order wanted to protect them from the rumblings of war, Remus knew enough about the kids – and enough about the war – to know that it was only a matter of time before they were right in the thick of it. Again.

He was rather proud of them for trying to keep abreast of the situation.

He looked up when Severus Snape came in; Tonks was just behind him. He noticed with some surprise that her usually bright hair was pale, and longer than before. He tried to catch her eye as she walked to her usual seat but today she kept going and sat almost with her back to him, right beside Severus, who looked decidedly nonplussed about this new development.

Perhaps she was ill…

0o0o0o0

Profoundly grateful that nobody had wanted to take him to task about his flight from the library, Remus waited patiently for the meeting to disband and Sirius come up to his room. With some amusement he pretended not to notice the mixture of scents that suggested that this was where the youngsters had been spying from, and then did a good impression of being both blind and deaf when Ginny was sent down from Harry and Ron's room (which seemed, for the time being, to be their base of operations) to collect a stray Extendable Ear. She gave him a conspiratorial grin as he whistled and did his best to stare at the ceiling.

Finally, after the house began to quiet down, Sirius came looking for him, as Remus had known he would.

He looked mildly surprised when he saw Remus waiting for him, but he felt he owed his friend this much. Sirius glanced upwards, where a crack in the bedroom door suggested that the meeting wasn't all the children were planning to eavesdrop on; they smiled ruefully at one another, impressed at their ingenuity and tenacity.

Sirius cocked his head towards his bedroom door and Remus followed him, shutting it behind him.

"So," said Sirius, sitting down heavily on his bed.

"So," Remus repeated, making himself comfortable on his friend's ancient blanket chest.

Sirius gave him a hard look.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," said Remus, and shook his head slightly as Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, right," he said. "You ran out of the library like your trousers were on fire, and you just ate more than both Weasley twins combined at one sitting. Not that I blame you. About the trousers part."

"Thanks," said Remus, wincing at the analogy. "It was a bit of a shock."

Sirius deflated, all at once.

"I'm sorry, mate," he said earnestly. "I'd forgotten I'd left that box out –"

"It was good to see the pictures again," said Remus, shaking his head. "And great for Harry – Neville too if Arthur can get them copied."

"Well, no argument, but you know which picture I meant."

Remus looked at his knees.

"Yes, I know which one you meant."

"Right, so I'll ask you again: are you ok?"

"No," he admitted, quietly. "But to be fair, I haven't been since seventh year, I don't see why it should make a difference now."

Sirius sighed, heavily.

"It's not going to make a difference if I tell you it wasn't your fault, is it?"

"Once again, we'd have to agree to disagree."

"That's what I thought."

There was a pause as Remus continued to examine the fabric of his trousers – possibly to see if Sirius had been right about them being on fire – and Sirius simply watched him, feeling helpless.

"And I'm assuming you don't really want to talk about it," he said, eventually.

"Not really, no," said Remus, and he gave up.

"Right, well I should let you get some sleep then," Sirius said, standing up. "Molly's on a mission to keep us all occupied while the kids are here – thinks we'll get in trouble otherwise."

"I can't think why," Remus chuckled, relieved to have escaped relatively unscathed. He paused by Sirius's door, his hand on the handle.

"The roses were beautiful, by the way – she would have loved them," he said, working to keep his voice steady.

"Well, you know, it seemed the thing to do," Sirius said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. If truth were told he'd been worried that Remus might see it as an affront, but he'd wanted to do it, wanted to let her know that she hadn't been forgotten while he had the chance.

Remus nodded tersely and left Sirius to his thoughts.

He flung himself onto his voluminous bed and allowed himself to succumb to memories of brighter days.

0o0o0o0

Remus didn't bother to light the lamps in his room, there was light enough from the blazing fire and bedside candle that Kreacher had grudgingly lit for him.

He had known she'd be there, even before he reached his landing: he could already smell her.

She was stood by the mantelpiece, gazing at the liberated photograph where they laughed and grinned in the sunshine, the light of the fire blazing orange through her shimmering glassy legs.

"Where did you find this?" she asked, her voice echoing oddly in his cosy room.

"Sirius had it in an old box of pictures," he said, going to stand behind her. "There were some brilliant photographs," he continued, "Arthur's going to get them copied for Harry and Neville."

She smiled, and just for a moment her crystalline skin seemed to glow the way it used to in the sun. He ached to hold her then, to make her smile like that again, even for a moment.

"They'll treasure them," she said. "Memories that that are precious."

"I think I found the most precious," he said, and she nodded, a wistful expression on her face, and his heart broke again for the fiftieth time that week.

"Those were better days," he said, softly.

She looked at him then, and he saw a drop of silvery water fall from her hair and run across the marks on her lovely neck.

"The best," she said.


	4. Shining Girl

Remus was in heaven.

He had never believed that Jenny would agree to go to Hogsmeade with him, and he certainly never dreamed that they might be sat in the Three Broomsticks, talking freely and animatedly about books and friends and plans for the summer. She was smiling and joking with him, that infectious smile in place, and he didn't think it was possible to ever be happier. He watched her eat another spoonful of her butterbeer ice-cream – Madame Rosmerta had been experimenting again – and wondered what she'd taste like if he worked up the courage to kiss her.

They had spent the day wandering the streets of Hogsmeade, ducking in and out of their favourite shops, avoiding the roaming gangs of Slytherins who were out looking for trouble and lapping up the fresh summer sunshine, without a care in the world.

She had even let him hold her hand.

Now, inevitably, their conversation had turned to schoolwork.

"I'll be glad when the exams are finished, I can tell you," Jenny was saying. "There's barely enough time to get everything done without volunteering for Sprout, and there's no time at all for just relaxing."

Remus nodded.

"It's a lot of work," he said. "But hopefully it'll be worth it in the end."

"You mean for our N.E.W.T.s?"

"Yes, I'm trying to think of it as a head start."

Jenny gave him a dubious look.

"I'm mostly thinking of it as the teachers' excuse to make us work so hard that we don't have the energy to cause any trouble."

Remus laughed.

"Well, there is that too… although I can't imagine you getting into trouble."

"That's because I never get caught," she smiled, and he raised an eyebrow.

Jenny shrugged.

"If I want to spend time in the Library or the Greenhouses outside normal hours, I don't see why anyone should mind."

Remus looked at her incredulously.

"Do you mean to tell me that all this time, with everyone thinking so highly of you, you've been sneaking around the Castle at night?"

"Well, not _every_ night," she qualified. "Only when I'm bored."

Remus grinned.

"You're wonderful, you know that?"

Jenny blushed, prettily.

"It's nothing really…"

He shook his head.

His shining girl.

0o0o0o0

After a particularly unpleasant Defence Against the Dark Arts class, Ron sidled up to Harry outside the Great Hall, making sure that Hermione, who was chatting with Dean Thomas and Lavender Brown, wasn't listening.

"I did some checking," he said. "There was only one Jennifer in their year."

Unable to leave a puzzle alone and worried for Harry's godfathers, they had been surreptitiously hunting for clues to the vanishing Jenny. They'd been keeping it quiet from Hermione, too, who they suspected would not approve; this had been easier than they expected as the volume of schoolwork was currently precluding her concentration on pretty much anything else, as long as they looked as if they were working.

Harry glanced around.

"And?"

Ron pulled a scrap of parchment out of his schoolbag.

"'Jennifer Baker, Hufflepuff'" he read. "Has to be her. There's a couple of references to her in the chess championships…"

Harry smiled, it was and always would be the first place Ron looked for someone's name.

"…and she seems to have spent a lot of time in the Greenhouses – she won an award for some Fanged Geraniums at some show or another when she was sixteen – but that's it."

"Seems to have kept out of trouble," said Harry, thoughtfully. "At least on a scale with the Marauders."

Ron nodded, frowning.

"Well, we know she died," he said, thoughtfully. "We should probably check back issues of the Prophet."

"I'll do it," Harry volunteered. "I could do with a break from this bloody Potions essay."

Ron grimaced.

"Don't remind me. I bet Hermione's already finished it, too…"

"Already finished what?" Hermione asked, coming up behind them.

"Potions," said Ron, morosely.

"Actually, I'm still half-way through," she admitted. "I got so absorbed by my Arithmancy homework I completely lost interest."

"Only you could replace homework with more homework," said Ron, fondly.

"Wait – you mean you got _bored_?"

Hermione nodded, looking sheepish.

Harry reached a hand out to her forehead and pretended to check her temperature.

"Are you feeling alright?"

She brushed him away, looking like she was trying to be more annoyed than she actually was, and marched them up to the Common Room before they could get too distracted by the inviting summer sunshine spilling in through the front doors.

0o0o0o0

"So, what are you doing over the summer?"

It was the question that was on everyone's lips.

The last exam has been sat through, the last essay handed in, and the sixth years had –as one – burst out of their Charms exam and collapsed onto the grounds, where they were basking in the glorious sunshine and nursing their stiff necks and wrists.

Most people were so exhausted by the ridiculous amount of study that they'd needed to put in to survive what the teachers appeared to be treating as the preliminaries for the N.E.W.T.s that they were ignoring everyone else; several people were already dozing peacefully on the grass, Peter among them. Even Snape had seen fit to let down his guard, and was reading nearby; James and Sirius were ignoring him: they were just too tired to do anything. James was engaged in his favourite past time: Lily watching, so there was little chance of getting any sense out of him – especially since she had stopped hexing him every time she noticed the attention. Quite a few people had been surprised that James's tenacity and unusual tactics were finally beginning to win out.

Sirius rolled over lazily.

"So, Jenny, what are you doing over the summer?" he asked, as an echo of everyone else's conversations.

She and Remus were sat, side by side, their backs to a large beech tree close to the shore of the Lake; Remus's eyes were closed, but Jenny had been talking to her friends, who thought that she and Remus were very cute, and were sitting on the other side of the tree (partly as an excuse to be closer to Sirius, who would wink at them periodically and make them all giggle).

"Oh, the usual, I expect," she said, stretching her legs out and wriggling her toes in the grass. She'd taken her shoes and socks off almost as soon as they had sat down and was glorying in the feeling of relative freedom. "I'll go back and stay at the orphanage, see if they need any help. You?"

"Me and James are planning a camping trip – I'm staying with him for most of the summer."

It was no secret that Sirius had finally lost it and run away from home the previous summer, so Jenny simply laughed.

"Let me know how that turns out," she said. "Knowing you two you'll manage to set fire to the campsite – I'll keep my eyes peeled for news."

"Don't give them any ideas," said Remus, without opening his eyes. "I'm going with them."

She laughed again.

"Well, you just make sure I get him back in one piece, alright?"

Remus beamed, his eyes still shut.

"You hear that?" he asked, looking slightly dopey. "Now, be told: no explosions, no torture, no brilliant ideas at four A.M… you have to get me back in one piece of face the wrath of Jenny."

Sirius sniggered.

"I'm not afraid of you," he said, casually to Jenny. "You're too nice to cause lasting damage."

"You should be," she smiled, conspiratorially. "I have access to several Venomous Tentaculas and I'm not afraid to use them."

Sirius barked a laugh and grinned up at her.

She was good for Remus, he knew, like she was bringing him out of his cave of books a little more each day, out into the sunlight.

"I'd best watch my back then," he said, and winked at her.

"You do that," she grinned back.

0o0o0o0

It was _hot_.

No matter where he went, or how many layers he stripped off, there was just no way of escaping it. The heat sprawled about the house, like some great serpent creature winding its languorous way around them and slowly smothering anyone it came across.

That was the trouble with a mid-row townhouse in London, Remus mused, as he padded barefoot to the kitchen for a cool drink. The heat simply had nowhere to go, so it just squatted on the house like a toad, sucking the air out of the rooms. And it didn't help that half of the windows didn't open.

After a few hours of scraping away years of paint and a good deal of brute force, he'd managed to get his to move, so at least there was marginal air flow. He'd wedged his door open and let what air there was move about the house as best it could. The only other open-able window was in Sirius's brother's room, however, and it would take a lot more than an early June heat-wave to convince Sirius to unlock that particular door. So the fresher air – or at least, as fresh as London air could get – had stopped at the top floor landing, as if it were afraid of venturing deeper.

Wandering past the gurning House Elf heads on the stairs, Remus didn't blame it.

By rights, the kitchen should have been pleasantly cool, given that it was largely underground, but Kreacher had recently found a whole flotilla of excuses to keep the stove going day and night, and neither Remus nor Sirius had the energy to argue with him. He cackled vindictively as Remus passed his cupboard.

He opened the door and screwed up his eyes as a wave of heat poured out. He walked in, feeling stickier by the moment, and pulled out two bottles of lemonade from the cold store; he turned to leave, but thought better of it and grabbed the cold cottage pie that Molly had left them and neither of them had had the energy to eat.

He hurried out again, sighing in relief as he escaped from the oven that was the kitchen and pulled the door shut behind him with his foot.

Sirius was still trying to open the window in the library when he put the food down on the desk.

"Any luck?" he asked, wiping his forehead.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the bloody woman hexed it shut on purpose," Sirius growled.

He handed the knife he had been trying to pry it open with to Remus and picked up a bottle of lemonade.

"Still hotter than hell down there?" he asked, watching his friend jam the knife into what used to be an opening and wiggle it about, trying to force movement of any kind.

"Like a sauna," said Remus, grunting with effort. "I don't know how the little bastard stands it."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. Apparently the heat was getting to his friend more than he let on; Remus had always be faultlessly polite to and about Kreacher, no matter how foul the Elf was to him. It irked Sirius to no end.

"I can't believe anyone could be so vindictive as to magically forbid cooling or warming spells on their death bed," he said, between tugs at the handle.

"You never did meet my mother, did you?"

"Happily, no," said Remus, and Sirius laughed, eyeing the cottage pie hungrily.

"Moony?" he said.

"What?"

"You forgot the forks."

"It is _definitely_ your turn," he said, grimacing. "Are you _sure_ this window is supposed to open?"

"Yeah," said Sirius, heading out of the door with a determined expression on his face. "I dangled Regulus out of it when I was five."

Remus paused for a moment.

_Well, at least that explains why Walburga never opened it again_, he thought, and wiped his forehead again. _I wonder if Sirius would mind if I just smashed it…_

He froze.

There it was again, that scent.

That intangible mix of cotton and roses that had been following him around all month. She came to see him less in the summer, as if she was enjoying the peace and quiet, but her scent stayed with him, almost like it was trying to make up for her absence. These days she hated the sunshine, flitting out of the way of it as it made her feel hollow, unwelcome; she looked almost invisible in the sun.

He hated himself for that.

"I don't think I've ever seen you in shorts," she said, and he nearly fell out of the windowsill.

She was stood in the shadow of one of the bookcases, carefully tucking herself away from the light.

"Sirius made me buy them," he explained. "And since the kids are away, I don't mind wearing them."

She nodded, looking briefly at his scarred legs.

"It must be hot…"

"Sweltering," he responded, sadly.

"Must be unpleasant," said Jenny, but she didn't sound convinced.

When he was younger he'd assumed that ghosts couldn't feel the massive shifts in temperature that everyone else had to put up with and were therefore, in some respects, better off at the height of summer. But Jenny had given him a very strange and miserable look and told him the truth.

She had been freezing cold for nineteen years.

He didn't know how she could stand it.

He felt ridiculous, stood there with one of Sirius's mother's increasingly blunt and tarnished steak knives, voluntarily shirtless for the first time in probably a decade and staring at her with longing in every fibre of him. The sounds of Sirius cursing and possibly attacking Kreacher or various parts of the kitchen drifted up almost lazily, like they were part of some other, distant world.

She sighed.

"Come here," she instructed, and he moved across to her, curious. They had found out early on that they'd never really be able to touch, so generally they avoided it.

"Try not to scream," she said, and he frowned.

"Wha-" He bit back an incredibly unmanly shriek: Jenny had stepped right through him, making him feel like she had dumped a bucket of icy water over his head.

"Th-thank you," he managed, when his voice returned.

"You looked like you needed it," she smiled, and waved her hand through the two bottles of lemonade on the table. Ice formed briefly on the glass. "Sirius appears to be trying to blow up his stove," she said, conversationally.

"Kreacher won't turn it off," he explained.

"Ah…" she said. A crash from downstairs and a shout of triumph suggested that Sirius had defeated the oven.

"Looks like sandwiches for the foreseeable future," she said.

"Jenny…" he didn't even need to ask the question, she never visited during the day.

"Someone's asking about me," she said, and frowned. "I don't know how I know, but I do. And I can't sleep while they are." She looked up at him, pale and indistinct as she was in the light. "And I missed you."

He was about to respond when they kitchen door opened, and a triumphant Sirius could be heard ordering Kreacher not to fix the oven on pain of pain.

"Come back tonight?" he asked, trying not to make it sound like he was begging.

"I'll see," she said, and she was gone.

It was like there was a hole in the world.

0o0o0o0

"I'll see you in September," she'd said, and glanced at his friends. "Try not to get arrested or anything, ok?"

He'd grinned and told her that he'd do his best, and she'd kissed him on the cheek, making him blush crimson in front of his parents, before hoisting her trunk onto a nearby trolley and heading through the barrier.

That had been the last time he'd seen her in _months_.

He and the boys had managed (somehow) to return from their camping trip missing only Peter's eyebrows, which was some kind of minor miracle, and he'd spent quite a lot of the summer waiting for her frequent letters and helping his mum with the chickens.

She'd been immediately welcomed back at the orphanage where she'd grown up, and had once again become the surrogate older sister of an entire legion of children. She told them stories about magic and the pranks the boys got up to at school, all the while convincing them that it was all make-believe. Through her letters he had a fairly good picture of the daily chaos that fifty children between the ages of nought and eighteen could cause, and had no doubt at all that this was where her ability to go by unseen had come from. He loved hearing about the children and their games, loved hearing about the friends she had met up with, loved every second of contact.

Loved her.

It shouldn't have come as much of a surprise, but it had. He'd been lying on the bank of a river, somewhere in Wales, listening to his friends' snores and gazing up at the stars, and it had just hit him in the face so forcefully that for a few seconds he had been unable to breathe. He had no idea how he hadn't seen it coming, but he had glad when it had… he had a reasonable suspicion that she felt the same way, after all.

His parents hadn't missed the frequency of her letters – or the kiss at the station, and his cheeks still heated whenever one of them brought it up. His father had taken him aside towards the end of the summer and given him 'The Talk', which both men were equally glad was over with. Some of the things his dad had tried to tell him had made him shudder: when it came to your parents' sex lives, there were some things that you just never needed to know. _Ever_.

His father had told him something else too, and it was growing steadily in the back of his mind, slowly eclipsing his ability to think…

He'd found James and Sirius easily enough, and Peter had jogged up to the platform slightly pink and out of breath with only a couple of minutes to go, the station guard glaring at him as they dragged his trunk on board. He leaned out of the window with James and Peter, waving to his parents as they vanished in vast billows of steam. He'd caught his father's meaningful expression as the train had pulled away, and he'd nodded, feeling a little sick.

He was quiet as the train shot through the countryside, and he almost missed Lily and Alice Roberts, Frank's girlfriend, coming in to ask about their summers.

He'd chatted with them for a while, and shuffled up to let Frank in when he eventually found them. He'd pulled out a book after a while, and hidden inside it, unable to read. The sound of the carriage door opening again made him look up.

"Hi," said Jenny, and his heart leapt into his mouth; she hadn't put her school robes on yet, and she was wearing a flowery summer dress that made him wish he'd visited her at the orphanage. "I'm disappointed, boys – no major headlines about exploding tents at all – and I looked every week."

"Well there's always next year," said Sirius, with a grin. "How was the orphanage?"

"Chaotic, noisy and brilliant," she said. "I'm looking forward to some peace and quiet this term."

"At Hogwarts?" James scoffed. "You'll be lucky."

"Especially with you around," said Lily, with less venom than usual; James beamed at her.

Jenny eyed them curiously.

"Have I missed the romance of the century?" she asked Frank, who shrugged.

"I'm sure James'll fill us in," he said, and ducked as Lily tried to smack him around the head.

"Nothing has happened between James and I, and nothing ever will," Lily insisted, but everyone simply smiled. No one believed her anymore anyway.

"Fancy a walk, Remus?" Jenny asked, and he couldn't resist, his father's concerns flying out of his head as he followed her along the train. The dress made her look prettier than ever, a bright splash of colour amongst the other students, lighting up the world. She pulled down the window at the end of the last carriage and they watched the countryside opening out behind them for a minute, before turning to the serious business of getting re-acquainted.

When they came up for air some minutes later, both their faces pink and their hair tousled, they leaned against the wall of the carriage, fingers entwined, and watched the countryside some more.

"I missed you," she said, and he squeezed her fingers.

"Likewise," he said. "It was good to get your letters though – made a nice change from the insanity I'm usually subjected to."

She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder.

Even as they stood together, enjoying one another's proximity, that queasy uneasy feeling began to steal over Remus again.

"What?" Jenny asked, eventually, feeling him getting tenser as the minutes passed.

"Nothing," he assured her, hastily. Her slight frown told him that she didn't believe him, but he was saved from further questioning by distant screams.

Upon investigation, they discovered a large volume of mint custard spilling from the seventh year Slytherins' carriage. Apparently James and Sirius had got bored in their absence.

0o0

"You're avoiding me," Jenny said, pointedly. She was slightly out of breath: she'd had to jog to catch up with him after he left the Great Hall at breakfast.

"No I'm not!" Remus insisted, but he was lying, and Jenny wasn't an idiot.

She gave him a look that was part hurt and part utter disbelief.

"Remus, what's wrong?" she asked, stepping closer; her scent enveloped him like a hug, and he sighed. "Just talk to me," she said, one hand hovering over his heart.

Miserably, and fighting the urge to flee, he nodded.

"Meet me by the beech tree by Lake after Transfiguration?" he asked.

"I've got Potions last, I might be a while," she said, thinking out loud. "And not to make too fine a point of it, it's pissing it down."

As one, they turned to look out of the nearest window. The weather had held just long enough for school to start; since then, the rain hadn't let up for weeks. It was, as usual, grey and dismal, with a possible side order of hail forecast for the afternoon.

"Use an umbrella charm," he insisted, and Jenny gave him a look that was even more worried than before. "No one will be able to hear us out there," he said, quietly.

"That doesn't sound good," she said, and he gave her the ghost of a smile. "I'll see you later, then…"

0o0

He had to do it.

It was only fair, really.

The trouble was that he really, really liked her, and he was under no illusions about the effect of what he was planning might have on their relationship.

He swallowed; he didn't want to lose her, but as his father had said in the summer, if he cared about her at all then she deserved to know…

As Jenny had predicted, the rain hadn't let up, and Remus's breath steamed as he waited for her beneath the beech tree, the rain streaming down around him like his own personal waterfall. A thick layer of hail was quickly turning to slush under his feet, and he was freezing. He checked his watch.

Professor Slughorn frequently kept students behind in Potions, largely because he would only be part-way through what he considered a _fascinating_ anecdote when the magical bell rang. He was notoriously pleased with the sound of his own voice, but he wasn't a bad teacher, as they went. Remus shivered; she should have been out a good fifteen minutes before, and it wasn't like Jenny to keep anyone waiting.

Briefly, he clung to the forlorn hope that she wasn't going to come at all, before a rain-soaked shadow detached itself from the door between the Greenhouses and ran towards him, dodging the large muddy puddles around the edge of the lake. She slowed down as she got closer, frowning in concentration as she slipped and slid across the muddy slush towards him; one final slip sent her tumbling into his arms, and almost had them both in the lake.

"Steady!" he said, holding onto her until she could keep her balance.

"That's easy for you to say," she grumbled, and shook some of the rain off her face.

"You're soaking!" he exclaimed, surprised.

"You're observant," she responded; it had not been a good Potions lesson: two people had been sent to Madame Pomfrey with minor burns and a third had been lucky to escape being hung, drawn and quartered by Filch. "I've never been any good at Umbrella Charms."

"Here," he said, pulling her closer and wrapping his cloak around her soaked uniform. "I'm sorry, I didn't know…"

"Yeah, well," she said, grumpily. "Thanks," she said, beginning to warm up a little.

"Er – you're welcome," he said, and cursed himself silently.

He'd had it all worked out in his head, but now she was here all he could think about was how warm and soft she was, with her damp hair resting against his shoulder.

"Remus?" she asked, and he groaned, internally.

"Yes?"

"I don't mean to hurry you," she said, "but I'm ankle deep in mud here…"

"Let's see if we can find somewhere drier," he said, and led her along the edge of the Lake towards the trees, his insides squirming alarmingly at what he was about to do. He ducked under a branch and held her arm as they slipped and slid along the bank; the trees were closer together here, and they retreated gratefully under the canopy. The ground below them – while far from dry – was firmer, at least, and there was a large rock around which Remus extended his Umbrella Charm. They sat down, and Jenny gazed out at the dancing water.

"I've never been this far around before," she said. "The water's so deep here, and peaceful…"

Remus nodded, happy to concentrate on anything other than their conversation.

This, unfortunately, was not to be.

"What's wrong, Remus?" she asked, taking his hand gently in hers. "I've not said or done something awful, have I?"

Remus shook his head, surprised.

"Of course not, you're wonderful," he assured her.

"Then what is it?" she asked.

He took a few moments to order his thoughts, and try to convince the gibbering thing in his chest that he wasn't about to have a heart attack.

"I need to tell you something," he said, voice and body trembling unhelpfully. "I should have told you before…"

He trailed off, not wanting to continue; Jenny gave him an appraising look.

"You, James and Sirius are having a mad and passionate affair in every broom cupboard in Hogwarts?" she asked, with a calculated expression of concern. He burst out laughing, profoundly grateful to her for breaking the tension. "Oh, well, don't let me get in the way…"

"Ok, first, _eurgh_," he said, and she smiled slightly. "And secondly, no, there's no one else. I really lo-like you…"

Jenny raised her eyebrow at his verbal slip, looking surprised and very pleased all at once.

"That's the problem," he continued, despondently. "I'm…" he opened and closed his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. He tried again.

"Do you want to write it down?" Jenny asked, after a while.

"I don't have any parchment," he managed.

"Charades?"

"I… don't think I could accurately mime it," he said, helplessly.

"Oh…"

"I'll try again," he said, and she gave his hand an encouraging squeeze.

He took a deep, steadying breath and shut his eyes. She was going to hate him for this.

"I'm a werewolf," he spat out, and cringed, waiting for the inevitable outburst of fear and outrage.

He hadn't expected her to burst out laughing.

"Yeah, right," she said, "and I'm a House Elf!"

He opened his eyes, shocked; of all the reactions he had envisaged, disbelief was not one of them.

"No, really," he said, and something of the terror in his eyes must have got through, because she stopped laughing and gave him a searching look.

"You can't be," she said. "You're too – well – _nice_…"

He didn't have a thing to say to that, so he just stayed silent.

"This isn't funny, Remus, stop it," she said, and now he could hear an edge of fear in her voice, see a flicker of it in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said, wretchedly. "I can't help what I am."

Very slowly and very carefully, Jenny pulled her hand away from his.

He stayed perfectly still, not wanting to frighten or disgust her any more than he already had.

"So…" she said, leaning away from him slightly, "…you didn't get those scars rock-climbing with your parents when you were little?"

"No," he said, unhappily. "My father said something entirely accurate and insanely unwise to a very unpleasant man who turned out to be a werewolf with a taste for six year old boys…"

"Oh," she said, and he found that he couldn't look at her any more. "At least that explains where you disappear off to every month," she added, mostly to herself.

He gazed morosely at his incredibly muddy shoes. A part of his mind that was functioning outside normal parameters reflected that Filch would probably lynch him when he got inside.

"I need…" she began, tersely, and he risked a look. "I need to think about this," she said.

Remus nodded. He'd needed time, too, but there wasn't enough of it in the universe to make his condition less unpleasant.

"I can see why you wanted to talk out here," she said softly. "I won't tell anyone…"

He looked at her with eyes full of hope and she almost smiled. Almost.

"It wouldn't be fair on you – and if Dumbledore doesn't already know I'll eat my pruning shears."

"All the staff know," he confirmed.

"That makes sense…"

Remus glanced out at the unchanging weather.

"I could walk you back to the Castle, with the Charm – I mean, if I'm not – if you –"

He was scared and stammering with self disgust, but she interrupted.

"I'd appreciate that," she said, in that same, tense voice that scared him to his very core.

She left him outside the front doors, pausing to pass him back his damp cloak. He kicked his shoes despondently and waited for her to go, but she didn't; after a few moments he looked up at her, confused.

She was just standing there, looking at him with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Thank you," she said, abruptly. "For telling me."

And then she turned and hurried away, leaving him in the cold.

0o0o0o0

The heat had reduced considerably since Sirius had blown up the stove, a few days previously, but it was still sticky and oppressive in Grimmauld Place, and Remus couldn't sleep.

He rolled over for the fifth time that night and glared at the ceiling, kicking at the sheets that seemed determined to tie his legs together; quite apart from the cloying heat his head was too full for him to sleep. Too full of _her_.

Since her uncustomary appearance a few days previously, there had been little sign of Jenny, and he missed her terribly.

Not for the first time, the awful feeling that he might have simply gone mad and been imaging her all these years had begun to creep over him; he tried not to think about it. It was a little too realistic a thought for his liking.

For years, he had seen her only in his dreams, where she would either walk with him in the sunshine, or beg him to save her, or weep and wail, demanding to know how he could have done this to her. He had spent much of the first few years after Hogwarts unable to sleep.

And then the war had ended, taking every single person he had ever cared about with it.

For a long time he had considered joining them; every day had been a struggle for which he had neither the energy nor inclination, and he had lain awake at night, silently begging for release.

She had come to him then, sitting with him in dingy bars, walking the dark streets beside him, waiting patiently for him to come home at night… He had been certain, then, that he had lost his mind.

He'd decided a long time ago, that he would rather be hopelessly insane and have her with him than sane and be alone. And for a long time, there hadn't been anyone who would really have cared that he was mad… he'd toyed with the idea of telling Sirius about her on a few occasions, but he had resisted, afraid that he would find out that he really had lost her all those years ago.

His left arm grew colder, and he turned to see her there, resting just above the bed. She had that smile on her face and the sweet, heavenly scent of her filled up his head, driving out the unease and any thoughts of madness; what did it matter, if he could be beside her again?

It was irony itself that his primary reason for living had been dead for nineteen years.

He rolled over until they were nearly touching. They fell into their now familiar routine.

"I missed you," he said, and she smiled.

"You always miss me…" she ran her hand over his overheated torso; it was like being hit in the chest with a very gentle but ultimately freezing wave, making him shiver. After the initial shock subsided, he revelled in the cooler air that surrounded her, suddenly drowsy.

"Will you stay until I'm asleep?" he mumbled, softly, and she nodded, curling up beside him like his own, personal guardian angel.

He fell asleep with the memory of her face in his mind: her hair falling in sodden curls onto her pillow, her skin a shimmering blue-white under the stars, shining with some inner light, the dark, vicious puncture marks on her neck and hands barely visible.

His shining girl.


	5. Falling

He had risked everything for her and there was still no answer; Remus was a wreck. Since she had left him in the entrance hall two weeks previously he had been keeping his own company, avoiding James, Sirius and Peter, choosing to sit alone rather than with Lily or Alice, and turning down Frank's challenges. He had closeted himself in the very back of the Library and tried to work on his homework; for the first time in his life, it wasn't working.

He was so afraid of her answer that he was barely sleeping and food held no attraction for him. Lily had been the first to notice the change in him, and had – unusually – immediately asked James, who had since been keeping a close eye on him.

He and Sirius were shooting him worried glances over their breakfasts as he picked at his toast; Peter, who had remembered an uncompleted essay at two in the morning and had spent much of the night feverishly scribbling, was snoring loudly, his head tucked into one arm, a plateful of bacon under the other.

"What's up, mate?" asked James, suddenly. "You're scaring us."

Remus looked up, surprised. There weren't many people around – they had been late down to breakfast because Peter had simply refused to wake up. In the end, Sirius had simply hoisted the slumbering boy over his shoulder while James carried his bag full of essays.

But then, James wouldn't have said anything at all if there had been anyone to hear them.

"I'm fine," he said, unconvincingly. He ignored the twin looks of incredulity and stared stubbornly at his plate.

Movement beside him suggested that he wasn't fooling anyone.

_Broom polish, bacon, firewhiskey and a slight hint of wet dog,_ he thought. Even Sirius's scent made no attempt at subtlety.

"Come on mate," he said, and Remus glanced up to find his friend sat on the table next to him.

"Really, I'm fine," Remus repeated. "You're sitting on a plate of sausages," he added, conversationally.

"Am I? Bugger!" Sirius said, as he squirmed about, trying to get grease and ketchup off the back of his trousers.

He caught a movement at the Hufflepuff table as James sniggered; apparently Sirius's antics had caught the attention of Jenny's friends. She was just as beautiful as ever, though she wasn't smiling; she met his eyes almost sadly, and he balked.

Grabbing his bag, he practically ran out of the Great Hall, raising more than a few eyebrows.

James stared after him, stunned, but Sirius had twisted round to see what had set his friend running, and caught Jenny's eye.

'Is he ok?' she mouthed, and Sirius shrugged, frowning, asking the same question of her with the nod of his head.

It was Jenny's turn to shrug, and it was all the answer he needed.

"I'm going after Remus," he said, grabbing the remains of his breakfast and charging out of the Hall.

James, who was used to much quieter breakfasts, sighed, and went back to the serious business of seeing what he could balance on Peter before he woke up.

0o0

"You and Jenny broke up?" Sirius panted, having chased Remus halfway through the school; they were heading for Herbology, so it was quite a way when you were simultaneously trying to run, call your friend's name and eat your bacon sandwich.

Remus slowed down so that he could catch up, which Sirius took to mean 'yes'.

"But you guys were great together, what happened?"

"I –" he paused to let some third year Ravenclaws charge past. "I told her…"

Sirius choked on the remains of his sandwich.

"_What?_" he managed, when Remus had stopped hitting him on the back.

"It was only fair," his friend said, with a pained expression.

"But – what if she – sweet Merlin, Remus, what were you _thinking_?"

He shrugged, and Sirius understood. He mentally backed down a notch.

"You love her, don't you…"

Remus took a few moments before answering, and Sirius could see the hurt in his eyes.

"Yes," he said softly. "And now she thinks I'm a monster."

0o0

It had not been a good Herbology lesson, what with a near comatose Peter on one side, and Sirius on the other…

Remus was beginning to think that a lot of things would be made better if Sirius would stop trying to cheer him up.

He felt her eyes on him all through the class, but after the look she'd given him at breakfast he didn't dare look up; he pruned his Flutterby bush despondently and was only surprised out of his funk when James managed (somehow) to set his bush on fire. The resulting chaos was actually quite entertaining, in a perverse way, and it at least got rid of Sirius, who was required to escort his rather dazed friend to the Hospital Wing as Professor Sprout, Alice and Jenny tried to calm the distraught and shaking plant.

He turned back to his own specimen and tried to ignore the scent of her, much stronger now as she was so much closer; he passed the weed-spray to Peter (who had finally woken up to the class shouting and yelling, trying to escape flailing tendrils) and forbade himself from thinking about how much he wanted to just turn around and catch her hand…

He would pull her to him, then, and she would tell him that he was being daft – of course she didn't care about a silly little thing like lycanthropy – and he would kiss her until either he couldn't breathe anymore or Professor Sprout noticed and walloped them both on the head with the nearest gardening implement.

So intent he was about _not_ thinking any of that, that he completely missed Jenny slipping a scrap of parchment into his pocket before she rejoined her partner across the Greenhouse from him.

He snapped out of his daydreams, bittersweet as they were, with Peter shaking him slightly, looking mildly worried.

"You alright, mate? You were miles away…"

"Sorry Pete," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Didn't get much sleep last night…"

_Well, it was a half truth at least_, he told himself.

Peter nodded sympathetically.

"I think I've caught up on mine this morning," he said, sheepishly, and Remus smiled.

"Hey, at least you got that essay done – Kettleburn's got a new shipment of mutant scorpions he wants help with."

Peter shuddered.

"I know," he said. "Nothing quite like the thought of staring down a ten-foot angry arachnid to get your creative juices flowing. I've never written an essay that fast in my _life_."

"Come on," said Remus, wearily. "Let's see what lunch is before Sirius and James get back from the Hospital Wing and eat it all…"

0o0

Her scent had been following him around all day, and he just couldn't work it out. There was no way she could have followed him into the Gryffindor dorms to pick up the afternoon's books, and she wasn't in Transfiguration _or_ Arithmancy with him…

So why couldn't he get away from that intoxicating aroma?

It made it impossible to work.

He shut his book with an angry snap and glared around the small space he'd found tucked between two bookcases at the very back of the library. As frightened as he was, his forced inactivity was frustrating as hell; he ran his hands through his hair, tousling it up into little spikes, and leaned backwards in his chair. Generally, being a Prefect, he frowned on such behaviour, and would even employ sticking charms in an underhand attempt to prevent James or Sirius from giving themselves concussion, but back here, with nobody watching, he relaxed: resting his heels on the table in front of him and stretching his long limbs out so he was practically horizontal.

Being a Prefect was not, he conceded, necessarily all it was cracked up to be (though he'd be buggered if he ever admitted this to anyone). He closed his eyes, mentally running through possible sources for his Ancient Runes homework; it was little use, though, he'd managed five minutes of scholarly oblivion before that gorgeous mix of honey and roses crept back into his consciousness, tormenting him with promises of sweetness and soft lips.

He scowled, and opened his eyes, glaring at the ceiling; a large spider stared back at him, dispassionately.

"You too, eh?" he grumbled. "I just can't win…"

His stomach rumbled; he's missed dinner again, and Lily – gods only know how she knew, but she always did, like she had a sixth sense for depression in the student body – or Sirius would probably make another attempt at cheering him up when he eventually showed his face…

He gave a pleased little start when he remembered the packet of Droobles he had hastily stuffed into his pocket before History of Magic (well, you never knew when you'd need a little chemical help to stay awake with Binns). Still leaning back as far as he could go, he reached into his pockets; nothing in the left one, just a random bit of string and a Muggle paper-clip (he still couldn't get over the ingenuity of the thing).

_Aha!_ he thought, triumphantly, his fingers closing around the packet.

That was funny, he didn't remember picking up any scraps of parchment…

He popped a cherry flavoured Drooble into his mouth and unfolded what turned out to be a note.

And promptly fell off the chair.

0o0

Remus paced the corridor in a state of high agitation, periodically reaching up and rubbing the bump on his head.

It was midnight, and most of the school was asleep (or, at least, in their dormitories); he'd had to duck behind a few tapestries on the way to avoid patrolling ghosts. He'd considered asking to borrow James's Invisibility Cloak, but that would have meant telling James why he needed it, and he'd rather not see the pitying look on his friend's face. It wasn't too much of a problem – with the exception of the ghosts, who had no scent – he could smell people coming two corridors away.

Besides, the portraits were too used to his sneaking about with his friends and patrolling as a Prefect to worry about what he was up to… he just hoped that Jenny didn't get caught.

He took her note out of his pocket and unfolded it for the twentieth time that day. It was simple, and to the point:

'_Midnight: outside the kitchens.'_

It wasn't signed, but the scent of her was all over it; it must have been on her, in her pocket all day. Doing his best to ignore the path that his thoughts threatened to take at that realisation, he stiffened. Someone was coming.

He stepped backwards into the shade of a Tapestry, waiting for their scent to resolve itself into familiarity.

Why in gods name had she wanted to meet here, of all places? He admired her gall, in many ways, but this had to be the busiest corridor in terms of illicit activities in all of Hogwarts colourful history. He could smell the trails left by a wide range of staff and students, hours ago now, that had crept down to the kitchens and carried away stolen treats (although, given the House Elves' enthusiasm, it was hardly stealing, really).

He sniffed the air, experimentally: there was no doubt, it was definitely Jenny. His powerful ears picked up the sound of her footsteps as she approached the corridor: she was hurrying, and that alone gave him the slightest shred of hope. It wasn't much, given the circumstances, but it was enough to make him step out of the shadows and wait for her in the torchlight.

"Hi," she said, awkwardly, as she saw him. She looked almost surprised to see him, as if she'd thought he might not turn up.

"Hi," he echoed, staring at her. Her hair looked like spun gold in the torchlight, and he longed to reach out and touch it, to feel its softness between his fingers once more.

He wished his body would make up its mind: half of it appeared to be dealing with the situation by going entirely numb, which was a good deal better than his stomach, which had turned to jelly. He swallowed, hoping to disabuse his heart of the idea that escape could be had through his oesophagus.

Jenny bit her lip.

"Are you ok?" she asked. "You were really pale at breakfast…"

Remus shrugged; at least she still cared enough to ask him.

"I haven't told anyone," she assured him, and he managed a slight smile.

"I know," he said. "I'd have found out by now if you had, Hogwarts being what it is… besides, you promised you wouldn't," he added, as if such a thing was binding. With her, it was.

Jenny smiled at him, and his heart had another go at impersonating Harry Houdini.

"I'm glad you told me," she said quietly. "It would have been a horrible shock if I'd found out by myself."

Hope dissipating at her choice of words, he simply nodded. He wasn't sure he trusted his voice not to get carried away with itself and declare his undying love.

"I've come to a decision," she said, carefully, and his beleaguered heart sank.

"And?" he managed to ask, after a few moments of tortuous silence.

"This," she said, and stepped forwards.

He was utterly astonished to find her lips on his – soft, and warm, and inviting – so astonished that he could neither respond nor form the sentences necessary to demand an explanation.

"Wh-"

She even tasted of honey, his mind registered dimly, as she kissed him again, more soundly. This time, he had the presence of mind to kiss her back – after all, it might be the last chance he'd ever get if she came to her senses and realised she was kissing a _werewolf_, of all things – and he sighed as her tongue slipped between his lips.

It was a while before they parted, breathless and pink, and considerably longer before Remus regained enough composure to ask:

"Was that your decision then?" he asked, timidly.

"Yes," she said, her eyes sparkling at him as he broke out into a wide grin. "Would you like me to repeat it?"

"Absolutely," he said, and she laughed – it was strangely musical after the interminable silence of the past weeks.

"So," she asked, as he walked her back to her Common Room, a good hour later. "Are you going to ask me to Hogsmeade next weekend?"

His features darkened.

"Are you sure you're all right with me being…"

"Look, Remus, it's not all the time, and I know you. You wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Yes, but," he tried again, not wanting her to make the mistake of falling for him.

"I don't care," she said, fiercely. "I might have, if you hadn't told me, but you _did_. I trust you." She smiled slightly at his expression and added: "Besides, I'm not much fun to be around for three days of the month."

0o0o0o0

"Really, Sirius?" Jenny demanded. "That's the most sensible thing you could come up with? Propelling people around the classroom on levitating furniture?"

If it had been anyone other than Jenny, he would have laughed, but Sirius was well aware of the dangers associated with annoying Professor Sprout's favourite student.

"I didn't say it was sensible," he said, holding his hands up in a placating manner. "I just said I was bored."

Jenny scowled at him; despite his pounding headache, Remus smiled. She was doing a passable impression of an enraged Lily Evans. Her face was red from shouting at him, her hands were on her curvaceous hips in a don't-mess-with-me sort of way and she was very nearly growling.

It was insanely arousing, and if Madame Pomfrey hadn't been hovering around, trying not to laugh at the performance, he might have pulled her into his lap there and then.

Luckily for everyone's sensibilities, Madame Pomfrey chose that moment to swoop over and chase Sirius out of the Hospital Wing; he was supposed to be being harangued by Professor McGonagall, but he'd been worried about Remus.

Having a bench full of shrieking Ravenclaws dumped on top of him wasn't really his idea of a good time, so he ignored Sirius's farewell and concentrated on Jenny instead, which was much more enjoyable.

She'd been delivering a message to Professor Flitwick when Sirius had reached the outer limits of his concentration span and begun to wreak havoc, and had insisted on accompanying Remus, Frank and three of his other victims to the Hospital Wing. She was fussing over him now, and despite his throbbing head, Remus couldn't be happier.

"I don't think I'll be joining you tonight," he said, apologetically, as she made herself comfortable in the chair beside his bed.

"Don't worry about it – I wouldn't be surprised if he hasn't given you concussion or something."

"Still," he said. "It's your birthday party…"

"We'll do something later on," she insisted, smiling coquettishly. "I should thank Sirius for this."

"Why?"

"He's given me an excuse to have you all to myself."

"That sounds... fun," said Remus, in a low voice. "What did you have in mind?"

"You'll have to wait and see," she teased, and he raised an eyebrow.

They had been snogging in empty classrooms for several months now, and it was all starting to get more heated. They had decided, in the second most embarrassing conversation of his young life, to wait at least until they left Hogwarts – it was only six months away anyway, and neither of them wanted life to get particularly complicated in time for their N.E.W.T.s – but it was a decision that was becoming more difficult to stick to as time crept on.

Remus cleared his throat.

"Since I won't be at the party," he said, digging around in his schoolbag. "I should probably give you your present now, before Madame Pomfrey remembers to kick you out."

He held out a small box, wrapped in purple tissue paper.

Jenny grinned, but Remus frowned at her.

"What's that?" he asked, nodding at a small cut on her wrist.

"Oh, I got caught out in Herbology yesterday," she explained, rubbing at the mark absently.

"The Asiatic Water Plums?" Remus asked. "They weren't sharp."

They were, in fact, droopy, fat looking things with bright blue fruits that they had been pointedly forbidden to eat. They were highly prized for their medicinal qualities and quite difficult to get hold of; both Professor Sprout and Madame Pomfrey had promised them a slow and painful death if any of them were damaged or missing.

"I know," she said, waving away his concern. "Must have caught it on the secateurs or something. I didn't even notice until I got into the shower last night – it really stung."

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that last bit?" he asked. "I got a bit lost when you got to 'shower'."

Jenny hit him lightly on the arm and turned her attention back to her birthday present.

"You spoil me," she said, unwrapping it.

"Sorry…"

"I wasn't complaining."

He snorted, and beamed as she gasped in surprise.

"Oh, Remus, it's beautiful," she said, twisting the dainty thing around in the light. "Thank you!"

"Here," he said, and helped her fasten the delicate gold chain behind her neck; she took the opportunity to kiss him, lightly.

"Thank you," she said, again. "It's lovely."

"It reminded me of you," he said, not wanting to let her go.

"That's quite enough, you two," announced Madame Pomfrey good naturedly, as she bustled past. "You get back to your lessons now, Miss Baker."

They broke apart, blushing furiously; Jenny tucked the small white porcelain rose under her shirt and kissed him gently on the cheek when the Matron's back was turned.

"Feel better," she instructed him, and hurried off.

"Happy birthday!" he called after her.

0o0o0o0

"Alright," Remus said, sitting down on the bench beside her. "What have I done?"

It was late December and he hadn't seen very much of Jenny for the better part of a week; it was beginning to worry him.

"Nothing," she said, surprised. "Why?"

"Oh… I – er – I thought you were avoiding me," he said, embarrassed.

"No," she laughed, and he noticed that it wasn't nearly as bright as usual. "I've just not been feeling well, that's all."

"Do you need me to nurse you better?" he asked hopefully, pressing a hand against her forehead; it did seem a little warm.

"What, are you channelling Sirius or something?" she asked, amused. "I'll be ok, it's probably just some stomach bug that's going around."

"Ok, but promise me you'll go to Madame Pomfrey about it if it doesn't get better soon," he insisted.

"You're worse than Felicity," she said, shaking her head. "She's been trying to get me into the Hospital Wing for a week now."

"Maybe she's right," he pointed out, all helpful concern. "You don't normally get sick."

"I'll tell you what, if I'm not better by the end of the Christmas Break I'll go and talk to Madame Pomfrey, will that make you happy?"

Remus nodded.

"But if you _do_ need looking after in the meantime," he offered, rubbing her arm.

Jenny leaned against him appreciatively, and he wrapped his arms around her.

"I'll know where to come."

0o0o0o0

Jenny woke up from an awful dream, sweating and gasping for breath.

She waited for her breathing to return to normal as the images dissipated: all long, sharp teeth and yellow eyes and high pitched cackling. She shivered and dragged herself out of bed, powerfully thirsty.

It was the last day of the Christmas holiday and she was alone in the dormitory, so she lit the lamps and padded across the cold stone floor to the bathroom. She filled a jug with icy water and gulped it down greedily, having to fill it a second time to slake her thirst.

She felt her forehead, which was hot and achy.

Maybe she really _should_ see Madame Pomfrey.

She refilled the jug a final time and carried it back to her bedside before collapsing onto her bed.

She just didn't have any energy these days; she glanced at the clock: it was hideously early. She had woken like this every day for a week and a half, and it was beginning to get on her nerves.

Burying her face in the pillows she grimaced. She knew what was coming next.

The feeling of nausea grew until she couldn't stand it any longer and she staggered to the bathroom to be sick.

She groaned, piteously. Clutching the side of the sink, she caught her reflection in the mirror as a fresh wave of nausea hit her.

_What is wrong with me?_ she thought, desperately.

0o0o0o0

"Well, Miss Baker, I think it's safe to say that you aren't well," said Madame Pomfrey, who had quickly gone from annoyed at being woken up so early to business-like in record speed.

Jenny grimaced and retched into the bucket she was holding, her world spinning.

"And you've no idea what could be causing it?" the Matron asked again.

If she'd been feeling better, Jenny would have glared at her; if she'd known what the problem was she would have sorted it out herself. As it was, she settled for shaking her head weakly.

"Hmmm…" said Madame Pomfrey, and took out an old fashioned nurse's watch. Gently, she picked up Jenny's shaking wrist and compared its beats with the ticking hands. "Your blood pressure's a bit high," she observed. "And you're very warm."

Unsteadily, Jenny set the bucket on the floor in front of her, fervently hoping that the worst was over.

"Let's see if you can lie down without being sick for a while, shall we?" Madame Pomfrey was already pushing her back against the bed; Jenny had the brief and not altogether welcome impression that she was being eaten by pillows.

She listened to her own heart as the Matron rummaged around in her Potion cupboards, the clinking of the vials jarring with its erratic beat.

"Now, let's get this down you," Madame Pomfrey had reappeared, an armful of bottles tucked into the front of her dressing-gown. "That's it…"

Jenny sagged in relief as her body calmed down; the Potion had tasted awful, like rotten spinach, but it had certainly done the trick.

"That should stop the nausea and the shivering," she said. "You need to get some sleep, young lady," she said, tucking the sheets in around her. "Sometimes that's the best thing for a fever."

Jenny tried to thank her, but found that she was just too tired, the potion too effective.

"Your welcome," Madame Pomfrey said softly.

She drifted away as the sunlight began to trickle through the windows of the Hospital Wing.

0o0o0o0

"But you're better now, though?" Remus demanded, wide-eyed at the thought of just how sick his girlfriend had been.

"Yes," said Jenny; he had pulled her into his lap as soon as she'd gone to sit down, unobserved in their little den at the back of the Library. "Well, mostly."

"Mostly?" he repeated, voice a little higher than normal. "How mostly?"

"I'm still feeling a bit sick in the mornings," she said. "But there's no more fever, and for that I am eternally grateful."

He gave her a dubious look.

"Really, Remus, I'm ok."

"You'd better be," he said, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

She snorted into his jumper and it made him relax a little; if Jenny was still laughing there couldn't be that much wrong with her.

Jenny snuggled against him, enjoying his warmth and the softness of his jumper.

_It would probably be a good thing_, she reflected, _if I don't tell him about the dreams…_


	6. Shadow

There was definitely something wrong with Jenny, Remus decided, despite her assurances to the contrary. In the mornings she was pale and shaky, avoiding eye contact and pushing food away when he saw her in the Great Hall; in the evenings she would look much better, the colour returning to her cheeks along with her appetite. It worried him.

He had given up trying to push her to see Madame Pomfrey again, since it just made her annoyed. Apparently she and the Matron had had words at the beginning of the month; he didn't like to speculate on what could make Jenny voluntarily start a fight with a member of staff, or, for that matter, anything that could make Madame Pomfrey (who was kind to a fault and didn't ask too many awkward questions) shout at a hitherto model student. Both women seemed determined to remain silent on the subject, and no amount of Marauder-ish ingenuity had managed to provide any kind of clue.

Really, he knew he should leave it alone… but Jenny really wasn't herself.

He glanced across the Library to where she was working, alone; ordinarily, he'd be sat with her, but as a Prefect he was required to tutor those students in the lower years who were struggling, and she liked to sit nearby and distract him.

Ordinarily he wouldn't be complaining, but he couldn't stop himself glancing at her washed out skin or dull eyes. Even Herbology wasn't making her smile any more, though he knew she was putting up a reasonable show for their teachers and friends.

If only he could get her to talk to him…

0o0o0o0

"I say, Baker, are you alright?"

"Fine, thank you, Professor."

Professor Sprout peered at her over the Fanged Geranium she was repotting.

"Are you sure?" she asked, more gently. "You look awfully peaky."

Jenny sighed; peakiness was a state of being that she had long since acclimatised to, and one that every staff member she encountered felt the need to comment on.

"I just didn't sleep very well," she said, truthfully enough.

"Hmmm," said the Professor, sounding dubious. "Still, you'd best pop along to see Madame Pomfrey when we've finished here."

"I saw her yesterday," said Jenny, with a touch of annoyance.

_And the day before, and the day before that…_ Jenny thought, miserably. She knew that her teachers meant well, but she was tired of explaining that she didn't know what was wrong with her.

"And?" Professor Sprout prodded.

"She thought it was food poisoning at first," said Jenny, wearily. Carefully, she heaped fresh compost around the roots of the plant in front of her; they squirmed, contentedly. "But now she's not so sure."

"Poppy will work it out," Professor Sprout assured her. "I don't think there's an illness she's encountered that she hasn't sent packing."

Jenny tried to give the older witch a comforted smile, but it must have come out as more of a grimace, as she went on:

"I can finish up here, if you want to get back to your dormitory for some sleep," she said, kindly. "You look exhausted."

"Thank you," said Jenny, and meant it. "But I'd rather stay here, if it's alright with you, Professor. I've not been sleeping when I get to bed anyway, and I'd rather have something to take my mind off it."

"Alright," said Professor Sprout, and got back to her pruning. Jenny concentrated on the Bonny Bluebells in front of her, trying not to get too annoyed with herself.

Though Professor Sprout said no more about it, Jenny could still feel her concern, which was oddly comforting. Since leaving the orphanage for Hogwarts, Jenny had long since come to think of her House Mistress as a sort of kindly, no-nonsense surrogate aunt. She had always been the one looking out for the younger children at the orphanage, and it was nice to know that here, there was someone looking out for her.

Even if that someone was also looking out for forty other Hufflepuffs and five greenhouses full of plants at any one time.

She stretched her shoulders, wearily. The tiredness she could cope with – and to some extent, the nausea – if she could only get through a night without any more terrible, clawing dreams.

"Ouch!" Jenny glared at the Bonny Bluebell in front of her: it bobbed up and down on its stem defiantly.

"Right," said Professor Sprout in a commanding tone. "If the Bluebells are annoyed at you, then you are definitely too tired. Bed."

She watched her, full of concern, as she collected her things.

"Has Poppy given you anything to help you sleep?" she asked.

"She has before," said Jenny, hoisting her satchel onto her shoulder. "But she didn't want to give me too much of it, or me to have it every day, in case I build up a tolerance to it, or something."

"Well, you'll just have to make the best of it, my girl," said the Professor, stoutly. "Get yourself better."

0o0o0o0

Jenny stumbled along the darkening corridor, grumbling to herself.

"Knut for your thoughts?" said a voice from the shadows.

Jenny shrieked, wand already drawn.

"Sorry," said Frank Longbottom, emerging from the darkness and looking sheepish.

"Merlin's beard, Frank!" she gasped. "What are you trying to do – lie in wait and give unsuspecting students heart-attacks?"

"It's past curfew," he grinned. "No, don't worry," he waved a hand at her as she fumbled in her bag for her pass from Professor Sprout. "I know you've been in the greenhouses with Sprout – honestly," he continued. "It's not like you'd be up to anything particularly nefarious."

Jenny smiled, disarmed. You could always count on Frank to make you feel better – he had a latent instinct for when people were feeling down. He'd drop down in the seat next to you, or lean on the bookcase beside you (or jump out from behind a statue) and give you his easy-going grin and ask you what the matter was. It helped that he was never overbearing about it. It didn't matter how bad a situation was, talking to Frank made it seem more manageable, somehow, and Jenny loved him for it.

"Come and sit in my nook and tell me what's on your mind" he offered.

Jenny raised an eyebrow.

"You do realise how much of a pervert that makes you sound, don't you?" she asked, and Frank laughed.

"I could order you," he joked. "As a prefect, I mean."

"You're not helping yourself," she said mildly, and followed him behind the statue.

Flirting with Frank was one of the perks of being a seventh-year, and the best part was that neither he nor his lovely girlfriend Alice – nor anyone else, for that matter – ever thought anything of it. It was completely harmless and, after weeks of feeling rotten, a refreshing break from what had become normality.

Besides, however much she loved flirting with Remus, there was always a strangely dangerous quality to it. It came with the knowledge that both of them wanted to act on the chemistry between them, and the possible implications. There was none of that with Frank.

He was just what she needed right now: a friend.

"What _are_ you doing back here?" she asked, settling down gratefully on the cool stone seat concealed at the very back of the alcove.

"Waiting for unsuspecting rule-breakers and scaring the living shit out of them," he said, in the near-darkness. Jenny could tell from his voice that he was grinning.

"You rotter," she admonished him, playfully. "Abusing your prefect privileges like that – you ought to be stripped of your badge."

"I won't tell if you don't."

Jenny laughed, probably for the first time in days.

"Now, are we going to sit here exchanging banter all night, or are you going to tell me what's wrong?" he asked, more seriously.

Jenny sighed.

"I don't know," she said, picking at the invisible lint on her skirt.

"You must have some clue," he said. "Is that rogue of a boyfriend treating you badly?"

"No," Jenny chuckled. "Nothing like that."

"Are you sure?" he asked, playfully. "I could rough him up a little if you'd like."

Jenny snorted.

"Now that I'd pay to see," she said. "Just imagine you two fighting – it would be like seeing grannies wrestling."

"I'll have you know that Remus and I are quite the duellists," he retorted, in mock offence.

"You know what I mean," she said, shoving him lightly. "No, Remus is just as lovely as ever."

"Then what?"

"My body appears to be in revolt," she said, finally. "I don't know why or what it is, and neither does Madame Pomfrey – but it's exhausting, and I'm fed up of it."

Jenny heard Frank shift in the gloom and felt a warm arm wrap around her shoulder; she leaned against him gratefully, glad to have a friend that she could depend on.

Frank gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "It'll get better," he said, and she almost believed him. "You'll see – and Madame Pomfrey will figure it out in the end, she always does."

"That's not the only thing," she said, quietly. "I keep having these awful dreams – nightmares really. They're horrible – it always starts off the same: I'm in my dorm' and my skin starts burning and stretching – my lungs are bursting, like I can't breathe right. I try to scream," she continued, unable to stop now, after keeping the dreams to herself for so long. "But I can't. I just keep opening and closing my mouth and gasping – like a horrible rasping, throttling kind of noise. Then there's this terrible ripping noise, and I look down and I'm clawing at my own skin – pulling great chunks of it out. There's blood everywhere.

"And I keep thinking: '_Why aren't Jo and Lucy and Felicity waking up – I need help!_'. I just can't stop – there's more of my flesh on the floor than on me at this point, and underneath it's all gone funny. Not like muscles and organs and bones, like you'd expect, but all blue and scaly and spiky – like there's another skin beneath mine, somehow – all slick and glistening – and it wants to get out."

She took a breath; it felt so _good_ to finally be telling someone all this; Frank stayed silent beside her, listening intently.

"After a while it stops hurting so much and starts feeling, I don't know… _better_… like I'm finally free of something that's been holding me inside. And then I start to get hungry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Ravenously hungry… and it's deep, and dark, and starts to engulf everything… a-and I look over at Jo, or Lucy, or Felicity, sleeping in their beds…

"All I can think about is this terrible, gnawing hunger that's taking over my mind – and – and then…"

She trailed off, leaving the awful implication of that sentence hanging in the air.

"That's just gross," said Frank, after a few moments.

"Yes," she said firmly. "It's revolting."

"And this is every night?"

"Since before Christmas," she said. "And in my dream there's this voice how nice it would be to rip and claw and tear… saying how juicy everyone looks…"

She fiddled with the cuff of her jumper, uncomfortable.

"It's like something wants out of me, like it wants me to be like that all the time – and I'm frightened…."

_Frightened that I won't be able to stop it,_ she added, privately.

It was a thought that had surfaced more than a few times over the past month or so, and every time she had fought to squash it.

It filled her with dread.

Frank gave her shoulders another comforting squeeze, bringing her back out of her dark imagination.

"You're probably just over-tired," he said, gently. "You do so many activities – with the choir, and chess club, and in the greenhouses… and the mock N.E.W.T.s are coming up…"

He patted her arm.

"Once all the stress of those is done with you'll feel much better," he said, with an easy confidence that Jenny envied. "Maybe you should ease up a little on your clubs or something – at least for the time being."

Jenny nodded, thoughtfully.

"I've been wondering about it," she said. "But I don't want to let anyone down."

Frank made a tutting noise that Jenny had hitherto associated with Madame Pomfrey.

"You wouldn't be," he assured her. "Everyone needs some time off every once in a while. You'll run yourself ragged if you're not careful."

"I'll think about it," she said, with a rueful smile.

"Good," said Frank, patting her arm. "Or I'll set Sirius on you."

0o0o0o0

"Have you got a minute?" Poppy Pomfrey looked up from her list of tinctures and balms, and smiled.

Pomona Sprout's head was stuck through the open door to her tiny office, looking like she was about to be up to something.

While this was never a good sign, the ensuing chaos was usually entertaining to watch, so she put down her quill happily, and beckoned her friend in.

"For you," she said amicably. "Naturally. Pull up a chair."

She pushed the half-finished inventory to one side as her friend sat down, raising an eyebrow.

"Busy term planned?" she asked, eyeing the stack of requisition scrolls.

"Quidditch practice last month," the matron explained. "Between Black and Potter, and the antics of the Slytherin team I'm almost out of my basic bits and bobs. I'm going to write to my old friend Abigail at St Mungo's for the more unusual things. I'm sure – with persuasion – Horace can help me with the rest…" she pursed her lips in a faintly disapproving manner.

Horace Slughorn, the resident Potions master and head of Slytherin house wasn't a bad sort, all tolled, but he put a little too much emphasis on success for Poppy's liking. He was also practically legendary for fiddling the accounts, and always had his favourites – his exclusive 'Slug Club', that did nothing but divide friendships and provide Horace with future useful contacts.

It got up Poppy's nose.

Pomona, who had a similar opinion of their colleague, snorted.

"Given sufficient crystallised pineapple, you mean," she chuckled.

"Indeed," said Poppy. "You know, one of these days that man is going to turn into a pineapple."

"Well, he's already roughly the right shape," said Pomona, with a devilish grin, and they both laughed.

"Tea?" asked Poppy, shooting the kettle on one of the neatly kept shelves with a blast from her wand. "Francesca Puddifoot sent me some more samples – some of them aren't bad."

Pomona wrinkled up her nose.

"As long as it's not pink," she said, and Poppy laughed.

"How about '_Ceylon Blue Sapphire'_?" she asked. "It's pretty much just tea – but with cornflowers in it."

Pomona grunted.

"The thing I don't understand about Francesca," she said. "Is why she feels the need to make everything so twee. I mean – there isn't really any medicinal or flavour use for cornflowers in tea. I bet she only did it because it's not pink."

Poppy smiled. Francesca Puddifoot and Pomona Sprout had never got on, even when they were in school, and enjoyed a slightly prickly and ultimately private rivalry. They were both superb Herbologists, but while the down-to-earth Pomona had chosen to go into teaching and research, Francesca used her considerable skills solely in the pursuit of meddling with other people's relationships. She was notorious for it: she had even opened a romantic teashop so that she could better observe the effects of her potions and teas.

A few more lazy flicks of her wand sent cups of hot tea floating through the air to their waiting hands. They sat back in their chairs, enjoying the peaceful cacophony of Hogwarts at eventide.

In various parts of the Castle, unseen House Elves were washing dishes, lighting fires, tidying classrooms and gossiping; students were laughing, arguing, doing homework and generally misbehaving, their teachers ignoring them as best they could. Pallid ghosts slipped about the Castle like wandering mists, greeting one another in the corridors and going about their own, clandestine business.

Adding to the general clamour were the mysterious creaks and pops and pings that the Castle made of its own accord, heating and cooling with the weather and the fires of its inhabitants. There was the odd, distant, hoot or screech from the direction of the Owlery, and strange, remote howling from the Forbidden Forest.

It had driven Poppy mad the first time she'd come to Hogwarts, having spent her youth in Paris, which had its own set of night-time noises but always seemed much quieter than the Castle she had come to work in.

Now though, it felt like home. If she stayed elsewhere she found it impossible to sleep without the rhythm of Hogwarts echoing through the night.

Eventually, as the torches in Poppy's office flickered alight of their own accord, Pomona spoke.

"Jennifer Baker," she said, thoughtfully.

"Ah," said Poppy. "Yes."

She had wondered whether the girl would be the reason for Pomona's visit.

"She's not well, is she…"

It wasn't a question; it didn't need to be.

"No," said Poppy, quietly.

"Any ideas?" asked Pomona, gently. It was common knowledge that for all her mildness, Hogwarts' matron did not like to be beaten.

"It's rather defying classification," she admitted, a note of annoyance in her voice. "Every time I think I've solved it, a symptom changes and then I'm stumped again." She frowned, deeply. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it was doing it on purpose, leaving poor old Jennifer being stuck with the brunt of it."

"What have you ruled out?" asked Pomona, and Poppy understood.

"You care about Jennifer, don't you?" she asked, gently.

For all her nonchalance, her friend was quite attached to her favourite student. It was difficult not to be: Jennifer Baker was a pleasant, friendly, hard-working girl who had come to Hogwarts from an orphanage, wide-eyed and astonished by everything. Pomona had taken her under her wing, to some extent.

"Yes," said Pomona, with a touch of guilt. "Someone has too – I know the kids back at the children's home write to her from time to time – and she has no lack of friends here, but…"

"But she's a Hufflepuff and you're her house Mistress," Poppy finished. "It's perfectly natural to feel protective Pomona," she continued, reassuringly. "I know you're new at this – compared to me - but believe me, no one would hold it against you."

She paused for a moment, watching her friend's face in the torchlight.

"Besides," she said, astutely. "There's always one or two that affect us more than the rest."

Pomona nodded, thoughtfully.

"I'd hate to point it out to her," said Poppy, with a hint of amusement. "But just look at Minerva and Lily Evans."

"Not to mention the '_Slug Club_'," Pomona added derisively. "Though I'd hesitate to suggest that that was anything more than a way to cultivate useful contacts," she added, tartly.

Poppy sniggered, and then frowned as she turned her mind back to their conversation.

"I've asked her to come in on Sunday afternoon," she said. "I'd like you to join us if you could – a fresh pair of eyes won't hurt, and Jennifer might appreciate the support… I know I would. She gets more grumpy every time she comes in – and I don't blame her. After a month and a half of this _I'd_ be pretty fed up, too."

Pomona grunted her agreement.

"What have you ruled out?" she asked, already, and Poppy told her; it was quite a comprehensive list.

When she was finished, the two friends sat back in their chairs, thinking hard.

"It sounds a lot like her body's trying to reject something," said Pomona, her young face creased with worry.

"You'd think whatever it was would have left her system by now, though" Poppy huffed in frustration.

Suddenly, Pomona sat up.

"You don't think she's pregnant, do you?" she asked, and Poppy raised an eyebrow.

"Jennifer Baker, pregnant?" she said, considering. "It could explain the nausea… but she had a fever, right at the start of it – a really nasty one. I don't associate that with pregnancy."

"Could that have been something she'd eaten, confusing the diagnosis?" Pomona asked.

"It could, actually," said Poppy, after a moment's thought. "But look, she really doesn't seem the type."

"Who can say who's the type?" said Pomona, reasonably. "We're all idiots when it comes to love – particularly when we're teenagers."

"True," Poppy allowed. "Is there anyone she's sweet on?"

"She's been walking out with Remus Lupin for a while…"

"Remus Lupin?" said Poppy, with some surprise. She remembered seeing them kiss in the Hospital Wing before Christmas, but surely two people who were so sensible… "I wouldn't have thought it of him, either," she said, slowly.

"No," agreed Pomona. "But it wouldn't be the first time."

"No…"

"We'll have to talk to Albus," said Pomona, sadly. "He'll be so disappointed in them."

"Let's see what she has to say about it on Sunday, first," said Poppy, decisively. "Then we'll take it from there."

Pomona nodded.

"It's not going to be easy for them," Poppy said, soberly.

"No…"

"Well," said the matron, briskly. "At least it isn't something worse."

0o0o0o0

"Is Jenny alright?"

Remus looked up as Lily dropped into the seat next to him. He blinked, trying to make his eyes less fuzzy from his dismal Potions essay, and glanced around: the Common Room was unusually quiet tonight – even for a Sunday evening – as several of the lower years had tests looming. There had been a certain atmosphere of tense and desperate study for the past few days, and the Common Room had been pervaded by the kind of quiet that you usually found in libraries.

"She was yesterday," he said.

"Oh…" said Lily, in a way that did not inspire confidence, and frowned.

"Why?" asked Remus, when it became clear that his friend wasn't intending to elaborate.

"I just saw her – she looked really upset," said Lily, with a grimace.

Remus dropped his quill onto the table, suddenly alert.

"What?" he demanded. "Why?"

"I don't know," Lily snapped. "That's why I asked _you_." She glanced at his panicked face and her expression softened. "Sorry," she said. "I'm still wound up about that prank James pulled in Transfiguration. I shouldn't take it out on you."

"She was fine yesterday," he repeated, concerned. "She's been feeling a bit rough though, lately – that could be it."

"She _was_ outside the Hospital Wing," said Lily.

"And she was crying?" he asked, worriedly.

"It looked like she _had _been crying," his friend clarified, slowly. "Although now I think about it, she looked more furious than anything else."

Remus fiddled with the parchment on the table in front of him, the sounds of the quiet Common Room suddenly jarring.

"Could you keep an eye on this lot," he asked, finally, mindful of his responsibility. "I'm supposed to be on duty – but I want to see if she's ok."

"Of course I can," said Lily, pulling an enormous textbook out of her backpack. "Tell her to feel better, ok?"

But Remus was already hurrying out of the Portrait Hole.

Lily smiled slightly. Jenny was a lucky girl.

0o0o0o0

Genuine concern aside, Remus felt like a right tit stood outside the concealed entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room, waiting for Jenny.

It had taken nearly half an hour for someone heading inside to pass him and agree to find her, and now he was stood, arms folded, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He wasn't sure what to expect, after Lily's description of Jenny's mood.

He was scared, though he didn't ant to admit it to himself.

What if Jenny – _his_ Jenny – was really sick? What if was something that Madame Pomfrey couldn't fix? What if –

_What if he lost her?_

Visions of curses and horrible diseases flashed in succession through his mind.

They didn't bear thinking about.

He shuffled his feet, feeling helpless and uncomfortable.

_No_, he told himself. _I'm just overreacting… people can have things like 'flu and stomach bugs for months at a time, it's not that unusual…_

It didn't sound particularly convincing, even inside his own head.

He scratched at one of the pale scars absently, and froze, hand in mid-itch.

_What if he'd turned her?_

_Could I have turned her? _he thought, desperately, as terror stole over him.

True, he'd never been around her at full moon, but what if he'd accidentally scratched her arm or something – would that be enough?

With a sense of impending doom, he recalled the cut she'd had on her wrist when she'd visited him in the Hospital Wing in November. She'd told him it was the secateurs she'd been using in the greenhouses – but what if she'd been wrong. He bit his lip, fairly quivering with fear.

He'd never _heard_ of anyone becoming a werewolf just from a scratch – particularly when it wasn't full moon.

He knew he'd never bitten her as a werewolf – people would of noticed; she would quite probably have been dead after an attack that violent. Had he bitten her as a human? He couldn't remember.

Their make-out sessions had been getting increasingly heated, he knew, and he wouldn't have been overly surprised to find that he'd nipped at her lips, or ear or neck…

Remus swallowed hard and pushed these awful thoughts out of his head.

It just wasn't possible – and besides, if Jenny had become a werewolf the teachers at the very least would have noticed, and he would have been for it.

He looked up as Jenny climbed through the hole left by the barrel that served as the door to the Hufflepuff Common Room.

She looked pale and drawn, and he started forward immediately.

"Are you alright?" he asked, keeping his voice surprisingly even, given the turmoil within.

"More or less," she said, surprised.

"Oh," he said, feeling equal parts intense relief and mild embarrassment. "Er, good… Lily said she thought you were upset," he explained, on her look of bafflement.

Unexpectedly, Jenny's face darkened.

"Oh, _that_," she said, with an air of annoyance.

He took her hand, reassured; now it was his turn.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," she said, with a small smile. "Suffice it to say that Madame Pomfrey has officially run out of ideas about what's wrong with me."

She sighed and leaned into him; he wrapped an arm about her waist.

"She and Professor Sprout asked some very inappropriate questions," she said, into his shoulder. "That was probably when Lily saw me."

"They ought to know better than that," said Remus, with a frown. He tightened his grip on her waist, protectively.

"I know that they're just trying to help," she said, clearly frustrated. "But they were bloody rude, frankly."

Remus gave her a tight hug.

"Chin up, love," he said, brushing some of her wayward hair out of her face. "They're figure it out in the end. Maybe Frank's right – everyone's feeling the strain at the moment."

"Yes, well," Jenny huffed. "I don't see anyone else's bodies falling apart."

0o0o0o0

She didn't sleep that night, she was too annoyed.

_Of all the outrageous suggestions!_

She sat in the darkness, fuming.

_Interfering old bats!_ she thought, uncharitably.

And the worst of it was yet to come, of course.

As private as Madame Pomfrey and Professor Sprout had tried to make their meeting, she knew that neither of them had used muffling spells on the door of Madame Pomfrey's office. They couldn't, really, with patients in the Hospital Wing that might need tending.

Jenny had seen several injured Ravenclaws in the beds of the Hospital Wing on her way in, and by about ten minutes in she had no intention of keeping her voice down.

Hogwarts being what it was, all of Ravenclaw would be talking about the argument – probably the rest of the school, too, by the end of the day.

Fleetingly, she wondered whether she ought to have warned Remus, but dismissed the thought. He was far less credulous than the majority of their classmates.

She tutted to herself.

This one was going to be hard to live down.


	7. Cascade

He could feel their eyes on him, all through breakfast. Every time he turned around, everything looked perfectly ordinary: everyone at the Ravenclaw table was eating and chatting as normal. By the time he'd finished his bacon he was downright unnerved.

"James," he said, over the general clamour that was the Gryffindor table at breakfast. "Is everyone behind me staring at the back of my head, or am I imagining it? Because if I am I think I should probably skip Charms and go and have a lie-down."

James, who had been engaged in keeping his breakfast out of range of whatever it was that Sirius was doing with his pumpkin juice, looked past him.

"You might be right," he said. "They're all avoiding my eyes, too."

He subjected Remus to a questioning look.

"What did you do?"

0o0o0o0

"Jenny!"

She'd got as far as the main staircase before it had started, which in Hogwarts was some kind of minor miracle.

She turned to see Frank rushing towards her with the most unsettling expression on his face. It was somewhere between anger and intense worry.

Jenny didn't bother to resist as he took her firmly by the arm and piloted her off along a corridor at a brisk pace.

Silently, he steered her behind a tapestry that she would never have pegged as a secret passageway; she stumbled in the darkness but Frank pulled her onwards, down a series of steps that looked like they had been there since the Castle was built. Strange mask-like faces glared out at her in the gloom. She tried not to look at them: they reminded her too much of her dreams.

Frank dragged her out of the passageway and into the light, so abruptly that it hurt her eyes; she let out a hiss of pain, but still Frank stormed onwards. He came to a halt by a completely nondescript door and pretty much growled the word 'Hopscotch'.

The door slid back and she was pushed into what turned out to be a splendid bathroom, full of gold and brass and stained glass. There was an enormous sunken bath in the centre of the room, which must have been about six feet deep; a mermaid in one of the windows looked down at them with open curiosity as he steered her towards the stone steps by the edge of the pool.

"Sit," he commanded, almost pressing her into the steps.

Jenny did as she was told, wrapping her arms around her knees for security.

"Talk," he said, looming over her.

"I'm not pregnant."

"That's not what Madame Pomfrey thinks," he responded, tersely.

"She's wrong."

Frank knelt in front of her.

"Convince me," he said, more gently.

"I'm not pregnant," she repeated, calmly. If anyone would believe her, it would be Frank. "I know what it looks like, but there is no physical way that I could be."

Frank sat back on his haunches.

"This is the weirdest thing I have ever had to ask anyone," he said, with curious precision. "Particularly you, old thing…" he took a breath. "Have you and Remus ever had sex?"

"No."

"Have you ever had sex with anyone else?"

"No."

There was a long, awful silence where they looked at one another with even, level stares.

Finally, Frank nodded and sat beside her on the steps.

"You're in trouble, Jenny," he said.

0o0o0o0

They had been trying to figure it out all day, but no one from Ravenclaw seemed to want to speak to them. Whatever it was had apparently spread to the Hufflepuffs by lunchtime, and there was some definite snickering coming from the Slytherin table at dinner. Even a few of the younger Gryffindors were staring at him now, and it was getting on his nerves.

"You don't think they could have found out about – well, _you know_," asked Peter, in a low voice as they made their way out of the Great Hall that evening.

"No," said Remus, firmly; the thought had been crossing his mind all day. "They'd be more afraid or angry." He glared at a passing Ravenclaw. "This is more like I got up on the Gryffindor table last night and juggled, and I don't remember. I feel like I have something stuck in my teeth or something." He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. "I don't like it."

"You haven't slipped half the school a love potion on Moony's behalf, have you Padfoot?" James asked, as Sirius hurried over.

"Nope," he said. "And no luck from the House Elves, either. They know something, but they're not talking – and that's really weird. Something's definitely going on, but no one seems to want to say anything… although, I _did_ run into Frank Longbottom outside the Prefect's bathroom – he said he wanted a word. Seemed quite intent, I'd go and find him, if I were you."

Remus looked at his three best friends for a moment.

"You lot would tell me if I _had_ done something like juggle on top of a table and not remember about it – or someone had randomly transfigured my hair turquoise or something, right?"

"Naturally."

"Of course."

"Why would you even ask such a thing?"

There was a brief pause, during which Remus subjected them all to a dubious stare.

"You know, for some reason, that doesn't fill me with confidence…"

"Oh, come on Moony," said Sirius, wrapping an arm around his friend's shoulders. "It's probably just some stupid rumour going around. Everyone will have forgotten about it by the end of the week."

Remus had been about to push him away when they were interrupted by Professor McGonagall's crisp Scottish tones.

"Mr Lupin, a word please," the witch commanded, her mouth pursed into a thin, frightening line.

"She looks _pissed_," said James, in an undertone.

"What did you _do_?" hissed Peter, nonplussed. Usually it was James or Sirius (or both) who would be hauled away at a moment's notice. He'd never seen McGonagall look at Remus that way before.

"_Now_, Mr Lupin," she insisted, turning and stalking away along the corridor.

"Good luck, mate," said Sirius, as Remus followed his head of House, confused, and a little bit terrified.

0o0o0o0

She had retreated to the library for some peace.

Everyone's eyes had been on her all day, and she didn't like it one bit.

His shadow fell across her book and she looked up with a smile, which dematerialised when she saw his expression. His face was like thunder; her heart plummeted. For a moment, he just stood there, strangely menacing in her place of refuge. For the first time Jenny really understood the full breadth of strain that living with a wolf inside him must be – and why he always maintained his patient, even temper. He was practically growling.

Wordlessly, she packed her things in her satchel and followed him out of the library, afraid of the anger that was radiating from his every pore. They didn't speak at all until they reached a deserted corridor on the fifth floor. She knew what he wanted.

"How could you?" he growled, when he was sure that they were alone. "I trusted you – you know things about me that – and then you go and – _how could you_?" he repeated, inarticulate in his fury.

"I'm not pregnant," she said.

She had hoped that Frank might get a chance to speak to him, to explain her predicament, but it seemed that the teachers had beaten him to it.

He let out a strangled laugh.

"Madame Pomfrey thinks you are – and Professor Sprout, and Professor McGonagall!" he snarled. "Are you saying they're wrong?"

"Yes," she said, as calmly as she could. She could feel a strange panic building in her chest and was having to fight quite hard not to cry – why wouldn't he listen to her? She knew that he'd be angry at first, but he _knew_ her, didn't he? Surely he'd listen to her – trust her?

He stared at her, hurt and disgust mingling in his eyes.

"Please, Remus," she pleaded, a touch of desperation reaching into her voice. "You _have_ to believe me!"

She was suddenly, horribly aware of how all this must look to him.

"Believe you?" he spat. "All this time I've been worrying about you and looking out for you, and _you_ –" he stopped, apparently too angry to speak. "I just don't understand, Jenny, _how could you do it_?"

"I didn't _do_ anything," she tried, fully aware that she was crying now, but to no avail.

"Who was it?" he demanded, too angry to listen to her. "Was it Frank?"

"No!"

"Were the two of you sneaking about behind mine and Alice's backs?"

"I haven't done anything," she repeated, through gritted teeth. "I never _would_ do anything to you – and nor would Frank!"

Remus stared at her as though he was seeing her properly for the first time.

"And all this time I've been following you around like some love-sick puppy," he spat, and she could see the hot, angry tears in his eyes. "Well that ends right now," he exclaimed, coldly, getting a hold of himself. "You can run back to whoever it was you preferred to me and see if _he'll_ take you."

He turned to leave, but Jenny stopped him, taking hold of his arm.

"Remus, _please_," she begged, through her tears. "Please just listen –"

"No," he said, with such obvious contempt that she froze. "I won't listen to a dirty little harlot."

He shrugged her hand away and stalked off, leaving her staring after him through bitter tears.

Alone.

0o0o0o0

_Beat… beat… beat… beat…_

He could hear Sirius pacing in his bedroom again.

They'd had an unusually early Order meeting, following new information gathered from a recent reconnaissance mission. People had been excited and hopeful, which made a refreshing change from the incessant months of tension since Arthur's attack at the Ministry at Christmas. Everyone had found the time to relax a little; even Mad-Eye Moody had put his feet up on the kitchen table and stayed behind with Kingsley and Tonks for one of Molly's famous dinners.

There had been the usual banter rolling around the dingy kitchen, making Grimmauld Place seem oddly bright and welcoming.

Tonks had been trying to engage his interest again, which was mildly embarrassing – particularly since Moody kept winking at him with his one remaining eye when he thought that she wasn't looking, and Kingsley kept shooting him knowing looks.

He had done his best to turn her down gently, but it didn't seem to be having any effect anymore.

He hoped that he wouldn't really have to sit down with her and explain that, actually, the reason that he wasn't interested was that he was still very much in love with the dead girlfriend that periodically visited him at night.

He couldn't imagine that conversation going well, or that information staying secret for long. He'd probably be quietly removed from the Order and sent along to St Mungo's. He wasn't sure that he'd be able to bear their kindly expressions…

Arthur had come in just as Molly was making Kingsley set the table; no-one at the Ministry thought anything of his coming home from work during the day since his attack. He'd announced cheerfully that he'd had time to drop by the camera shop in Diagon Alley on his way and plonked two neat packets of photographs on the table.

It hadn't bothered Remus, since the picture of him and Jenny was wifely on his mantelpiece; Sirius, on the other hand, had visibly stiffened. He hadn't said more than two words to anyone during lunch – except to thank Molly for the excellent food – and had left the kitchen as soon as his plate was clear.

After the initial shock of seeing Jenny he hadn't seen much the old photographs, she had – as usual – eclipsed anything else in his sphere of consciousness. He carefully unwrapped the top bundle – which Arthur had said was for Harry – and happily reminisced about his school days with the other temporary inhabitants of the kitchen. It had been wonderful, bittersweet and emotionally exhausting all at the same time, and after an hour or so he excused himself, tired of watching Tonks hang on his every word.

He had sought refuge in the Library – usually an island of solace in the general chaos of Grimmauld Place – hoping that she wouldn't follow him. She had looked mildly put out when he'd left the kitchen and he was grateful when he heard the remaining Order members leave as he settled down to read. He knew that she was a lovely young woman, and really, any man would be mad not to be pleased at her attentions, but he couldn't help it. Nothing in the world would stop him from loving Jenny.

He sighed, shifting about in one of Sirius's ancient leather armchairs. He imagined that Tonks would take some convincing; it was always foolish to underestimate a Hufflepuff.

He had learned that the hard way.

_Beat… beat… beat… beat…_

He frowned, following Sirius's restless footsteps across the ceiling; he sighed. Sirius had always been prone to gloomy moods, even before darkness had taken over his world. It was a part of who he was, and Remus had long since come to accept this. He could only imagine what his old friend had experienced in Azkaban, and sometimes he wished that he could erase it all from his mind – give him a clean slate.

For all Remus's general pessimism – a symptom, probably, of his condition – it had always irritated him when Sirius had got into one of his infamous funks. Yes: the world completely sucked, but it didn't mean you got to indulge in sulking about it. You had to get on with things the best way you could, and try not to dwell too much on the dark things in life…

It had been a Hufflepuff that had taught him that, too.

_Beat… beat… beat… beat…_

Remus sighed, and put down his book. There was no point in trying to read with Sirius stalking about upstairs, like some off tempo clockwork man.

He leaned back in the chair and rested his head against the cool leather, trying to relax. As his eyes closed – as always – he thought of her. It was a foolish and constantly fleeting hope that he had lived with for nearly twenty years: the exquisite and impossible hope that if he opened his eyes again she would be there, sat or stood or lying beside him, bright and happy.

And alive.

He hadn't seen Jenny for days now, which wasn't unusual in exam season (he had a strong suspicion that she stalked the corridors of the Castle at this time of the year and scared students into studying), but he still missed her terribly. It made it harder to sleep than ever, and he'd spent the past few days struggling to rid himself of a persistent headache.

_Beat… beat… beat… beat…_

Sirius really wasn't helping.

He sighed again and got up; there was no way he'd shake his headache with him pacing about the house in one of his moods.

He trotted to the front door, ignoring Kreacher's vicious grumbling as he passed the door to the unused parlour and wandered out onto the streets of London, his hands in his pockets.

People stared at him as he walked.

He was used to that now; after a particularly bad full moon when he was a younger man had left his face scarred almost everyone that came across him did a double take. It really didn't bother him any more – and it wasn't as if they could help it. Recognition of obvious differences was an integral part of human nature. What he hated was how people responded to what they saw.

Some people would meet his eyes, deliberately trying to show him that they didn't care; others would look away, trying to erase his imperfection from their stunted world view. There were very people who took him at face value (ha!), and they were mostly children. It was one of the reasons he liked teaching so much. Kids tended to be quite blunt, asking what had happened and accepting any explanation he could give. Then they would move on, unworried, interested in the next strange thing that came their way.

The warm weather was still refusing to break, and the streets were swarming with men in inadvisable shorts and women in brightly coloured dresses. He enjoyed the colours, so different than Grimmauld Place, and wandered towards Covent Garden, the one place in the city where he could be certain that there were odder people than him wandering around. It was good, even for a little while, to blend into the background, and despite his scars, Remus had become an expert at it.

He stopped outside a tiny chapel to let a group of excited Japanese tourists amble past, intent on the market stalls and street entertainers. Music was pouring out of the open door of the church, and he stuck his head through the door, interested.

A choir rehearsal was in full swing inside; he smiled. Jenny would have loved it. He hesitated by the door, tempted to continue his lonely wandering, but something kept him there.

Spurred on by the knowledge that Jenny would have stayed to listen he took a few more steps inside, glancing questioningly at the vicar, who was sat at a small table off to one side. He seemed to be enjoying the music, too, tapping his pen along to it as he did the mysterious paperwork of the clergy.

He noticed Remus and gave him a friendly nod, unspoken permission to stay, and returned to his work, distracted by the sound.

Remus wandered to one of the pews and sat down in a pool of vivid coloured light, pouring in from the stained glass windows. It was cooler inside the church and he revelled in the fresher air as the choir continued to make their glorious music. It smelled like all churches did: a pervasive combination of clean stone, paper, talcum powder and shoe polish, as though it was a strange, quiet, hive-minded creature made up of the people who worshiped there.

He could almost feel her there beside him; her arm would be laid on his, her eyes closed as she revelled in the simple joy of sound.

Tiny flecks of dust in the air sparkled and twirled in front of him in the rainbow of light, as though they were dancing to the joyful sound.

Remus closed his eyes and breathed in the cool, still air.

Just for a few moments, he felt the ache in his chest that had been his constant companion for nineteen years ease a little. He allowed himself to relax for the first time in a long time: guiltless as he had not been in many long years, he thought of her.


	8. Jenny Alone

**Chapter 8 – Jenny Alone**

She sat at the back of her Potions class, trying to focus on the work and not the accusatory stares and dark mutterings that were periodically sent her way. She was the only member of the class without a partner.

She was getting used to it, now.

Apparently tales of indiscretion travelled even faster than tales of teen pregnancy. Nearly a month had passed since three incapacitated Ravenclaws had overheard her argument with the staff in the Hospital Wing, and everyone had taken Remus's side.

This hadn't particularly surprised her. Remus was a wonderful person, and had it been someone else that had allegedly walked all over him she would have been just as angry.

Professor Slughorn was making an effort to include her, however, as were the majority of the staff. She appreciated the effort – particularly as Slughorn wasn't doing anything that brought even more attention to her.

He stopped by her cauldron and inspected the contents with his usual genial demeanour.

"Not bad, not bad," he said, mildly. "You might try adding the eel skins before the rat tail next time – see what it becomes."

He twinkled at her and she managed a half smile; he'd made her feel slightly more human again. She scratched her neck, trying to concentrate on her work.

The feeling dissipated rapidly at the end of the lesson, when James and Sirius – out of a sense of loyalty to their friend – rammed into her, knocking all her supplies to the floor. She sighed and bent to clean them up; she'd nearly finished when Professor Slughorn finally noticed. He waved her away, informing her that someone _in her condition_ shouldn't be crawling around on the floor. She was grateful that the classroom was empty.

She stamped angrily through the corridors, trying not to think about the disgust on Remus's face as he'd passed her, angry and silent.

Wearily, she unpacked and repacked her bag for the afternoon's classes, ignoring her dorm-mates. She scratched her neck, irritably.

She had always got on well with Felicity, Lucy and Joanna, but now they hated her, and had no problem letting her know about it. They had unanimously decided that anyone who could be so horrible to poor Remus Lupin wasn't worth their time.

They had taken to talking loudly over everything she said and refusing to look at her. It was surreal and unpleasant, but Jenny accepted it quietly, privately thinking that incessant questioning would have been worse. At least this way she didn't have to keep denying it.

It was as if she had become a shadow in the Common Room, too – part of the background, but not worth paying attention to.

_So much for Hufflepuff generosity_.

It seemed that everyone was prepared to be infinitely more generous to Remus, rather than to her.

Shouldering her satchel she headed down to the kitchens, passing a large contingent of Slytherins enjoying their free time. They hooted and catcalled after her, amused that a good little Hufflepuff could have fallen so far and so fast. It was almost a relief that their behaviour hadn't really changed towards her at all, unlike their classmates.

The other Houses seemed to be presenting a uniformly unimpressed front: the Ravenclaws, true to their natures, were faultlessly polite towards her, but always formal and cold where before they had been open and friendly.

The Gryffindors were simmering. They had taken her apparent betrayal as a personal affront, and they were being unusually rude, shooting her dark looks in the corridor and calling her viciously unpleasant names when they thought that the teachers weren't paying attention.

She had found various revolting items in her satchel over the past few weeks – including an entire jar full of slugs that had eaten their way through her Herbology essay. Fed up, she had simply lumped the whole, sticky mess onto Professor Sprout's desk (she still hadn't forgiven her for her obvious disbelief, after all) and walked away. It was a mark of how much her standing in the classroom had shifted that it had earned her a week's detention until Frank had angrily pointed out to the older witch that her ex-favourite student wasn't trying to be disruptive. The news of systematic bullying had apparently come as some surprise to the teaching staff – although heavens knew why, since it was more or less a daily occurrence at Hogwarts – and the entire school had been made to sit through an anti-bullying lecture at breakfast the next morning.

Jenny had seen it coming and found it politic to slip unnoticed out of the Great Hall before they'd started, Dumbledore's eyes on the back of her head as she went.

She elbowed her way through a group of first year Gryffindors under the misguided impression that they were actually in any way threatening, and slipped into the corridor outside the kitchens.

Deciding against her own Common Room, just a little further along the passage, she tickled the requisite pear and climbed inside.

"_Miss! Miss!_"

She was immediately surrounded by a mob of House Elves, who of everyone in the school could always be relied upon to be delighted to see her.

She smiled properly for the first time that day.

"Hello everyone," she said, peering down at a couple of dozen happy and enthusiastic faces. "Are you all keeping busy?"

There was a chorus of agreement at waist level; the skin of her neck burned slightly, and she scratched at it again.

"How are you feeling today, Miss?" one of the nearer elves asked, his ears twitching nervously; Jenny recognised him as Lofty – so called because his mother had given birth to him somewhere in one of Hogwarts numerous and vast attics.

He had emerged as a sort of general spokesperson for the mob on several occasions, though he never seemed entirely comfortably with that fact.

"Better, thank you Lofty – I've not felt sick for two weeks now."

There was a small cheer, which made her laugh.

Being around the elves, with their pride in their work and extraordinarily positive outlook on the world was good for the soul.

"Could I eat lunch down here again today, please?"

"Of course, Miss!"

There was a shout of agreement and elves scattered in every directions to set out table, chair and food.

"We was worried about you Miss, when you didn't turn up for breakfast," said Lofty, hovering at her knees.

"I'm sorry, Lofty, I overslept again," she apologised, dropping gratefully into the proffered seat.

"You is wanting to take better care of yourself, Miss," he admonished; he covered his mouth with long, spindly fingers when he'd realised what he had said.

"No, that's alright, Lofty," Jenny said quickly, before he ran off to punish himself for such an extraordinary breach of etiquette. "You're right. I'm just having trouble sleeping at the moment, that's all."

The young elf still looked mildly horrified, so she added, "anyway, sometimes part of looking after people is pointing out where they're going wrong – let's not dwell on it, alright?" she finished, scratching her neck awkwardly.

Lofty cleared his throat, dreadfully embarrassed.

"Yes, Miss," he squeaked and rushed off, blushing dark green.

Jenny ate her lunch in relative peace, only interrupted by the occasional question or offer of more food; it was entirely possible that House Elves would feed you until you were the size of a small house if you let them. She liked the chaos of the kitchens. It was soothing, in a way, to be a small island in a sea of clamour that was at once practical and entirely mystifying.

It reminded her of the orphanage.

No one really came down here during the day – or even over dinner- so she was rarely disturbed, and then only by Frank, who knew where to find her. Remus and his friends undoubtedly knew how to get in, given their reputation for excellent parties and general misbehaviour, seemed to have a way of knowing when she was there, too, and avoided confrontations by waiting until she was gone.

It was a small concession, she knew, but she was glad of it. She strongly suspected that she had only escaped several inventive hexings because everyone thought she was pregnant and didn't want to hurt the imaginary baby.

_Nobility_, she thought wryly, and snorted into her pudding. _Well there was irony for you._

She was so used to her solitary meals now that when the portrait hole opened she nearly dropped her spoon.

When Professor Dumbledore stepped inside, she really did drop it, splashing cream all over her tie. She rubbed at it, hurriedly, in a belated effort to not make her blatant rule-breaking any worse.

"Ah, yes, hello," Professor Dumbledore said to the crowd of excited House Elves that had materialised out of nowhere. Given how often Jenny suspected people illicitly turned up in the Kitchens and their subsequent ebullient greetings, it was a wonder they ever got anything done.

"I thought I might join Miss Baker for lunch, if I may?" Dumbledore continued.

His eyes flicked over to her and she nodded, numbly. How could she refuse?

Professor Dumbledore had always been a distant and kindly figure to Jenny, and the thought of actually having a conversation with him didn't entirely fit into her head. It would be like sitting down to breakfast with Father Christmas.

"Ah yes, and a nice cup of tea, perhaps?" he was saying, as he conjured a chair beside her at the table.

He was smiling sympathetically at her over the small mound of sandwiches that the elves had just produced, as if from nowhere. He steepled his fingers.

Jenny looked down at her pudding, no longer hungry; she could well guess what he wanted to talk about, and she was far from comfortable with that thought.

"Thank you," she heard him say, as the small horde of elves dissipated. "Now, Miss Baker," he said, through a bite of ham and pickle sandwich. "How are you?"

Jenny forced herself to meet his piercing gaze.

"I've been better, sir," she said, honestly.

"I note you have been absent at almost every meal for the last three weeks – I assumed that you had made alternative arrangements, but I thought it best to make sure."

Jenny wasn't sure what to say to that, so she stayed quiet, watching the House Elves bustle around the five enormous stoves along the far wall.

"Would you like a sandwich?" asked Dumbledore, proffering the plate. "They're mostly tuna."

"Er –" she stared at him, surprised. "No, thank you sir, I've just finished…"

"A pity," he said, jovially, setting the plate back down. "They're really rather good."

There was a pause which Dumbledore enjoyed his lunch; Jenny studiously avoided his eyes.

"How are your friends treating you?" he asked, gently.

Jenny very nearly laughed.

Instead, she changed the subject:

"You should try the chocolate pudding," she said, fighting to keep the note of annoyance out of her voice. "It's very good."

"You haven't finished yours," Dumbledore pointed out, amiably.

"I'm not very hungry any more," she stated, shortly.

"The other staff members tell me that your schoolwork is, as ever, exemplary," he said, changing tack. Jenny wondered where this was going; she scratched her neck, irritably. "And I hear from Pomona that you are continuing to help her in the Greenhouses."

"Yes, sir."

"I was glad to hear it," he said, kindly.

Jenny frowned at him. It was becoming increasingly difficult to bite back acerbic comments. Although she knew that Professor Dumbledore was doing this because he cared about his students, she couldn't help but remind herself that if no one thought that she had slept with someone other than her boyfriend and fallen pregnant then he probably would never have even noticed her. Her neck itched terribly, but she resisted the urge to scratch it, not wanting to draw attention to herself.

As nice as Dumbledore was, he had always been something of a hands-off headmaster.

"You must let us know if anyone is saying anything unpleasant, or behaving in an untoward manner."

Jenny, who had been thinking about the slugs in her satchel, snorted aloud.

"Oh, yes sir," she said, unable to stop herself. "Well, since you asked, the Ravenclaws are treating me as if I'm some kind of distasteful foreign dignitary, the Slytherins are being as repulsive as usual – which is nothing new, I might add – and the Gryffindors either knock my things over, put revolting things in my schoolbag or try to trip me over in the corridors. My own dorm mates won't even look at me and every staff member looks at me as though either I'll break or I'm incredibly stupid, and quite frankly, I'm sick of it. Particularly since I –"

She broke off; she was red in the face now, and her voice had risen in sheer frustration. Several of the House Elves were shooting worried looks in her direction.

"Particularly as no one seems willing to listen to a single thing I say," she finished, more quietly, but with no less venom.

Dumbledore simply watched her, calmly, from the other side of the enormous plate of sandwiches.

"Apart from Frank," she conceded, too angry to be embarrassed about talking to her Headmaster anymore. "And currently you, sir."

He nodded.

"Thank you for including me," he said, mildly. She could tell that the old sage was amused, but had the good sense not to take this personally; she suspected that this meant he was treating her as a person, and not as a child.

It was about time someone did.

"I'm listening now," he said. "How would you like to deal with what seems like flagrant victimisation?"

"Ignore it," she said, simply. "I am, and for the most part the other staff are too." Feeling brave, she added: "It's what usually happens around here, why treat me any differently?"

Dumbledore frowned, and Jenny's eyebrows shot behind her fringe.

"You didn't know, sir?" she gave a hollow laugh. "_I've_ been fine up to now, but some people live in a constant nightmare in this Castle. All it has ever needed is slightly more vigilance on the part of the teachers. Particularly Madame Pomfrey," she added. "I know more than one person that's grateful of her policy of not asking too many awkward questions, but really how many times does one student have to be admitted before someone notices that they're been hexed or beaten up regularly?"

"I am sorry to hear that," said Dumbledore in a pained voice. He looked devastated by her fair but rather blunt assessment of the permanent undercurrent of bullying that existed at Hogwarts, and she felt suddenly sorry for him.

"For the most part, Hogwarts is a wonderful place," she told him, gently. "But not for everyone, and not all the time."

_And as soon as I said that, several students' names have sprung to mind, haven't they sir,_ she thought, shrewdly.

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. Jenny crossed her arms, still too angry to really care how much trouble she could potentially bring upon herself.

_After all_, she thought. _At this point I could hardly make it worse, could I?_

Dumbledore cleared his throat, almost awkwardly.

"If you are having trouble with anyone in particular I would like you to come to me."

"Thank you," she said, managing to sound gracious; he was trying to help, after all. They both knew that she wouldn't.

He leaned forward and she folded her arms again, defensively.

"Now I would like you to listen to _me_, Jennifer, and have a think about what I have to say."

She frowned, suspecting that she knew where this was going.

"I'm aware that the position you are currently in is a very difficult one," he began, delicately. "And I know that – in many ways – it may seem easier to ignore a problem that to deal with it, but it isn't necessarily the best approach."

Jenny merely stared at him, numb with indignation. She'd actually thought she had been getting somewhere with the headmaster.

"Poppy tells me that you aren't attending your weekly check-ups – may I ask why?"

Her voice was surprisingly level when she spoke, but it really didn't sound very much like her any more. She wondered whether Dumbledore could tell.

"Because when I tell her that her diagnosis is wrong, she refuses to believe me."

Dumbledore appeared to consider this quite seriously for a moment. He looked deeply concerned, like a father whose child insists on injuring themselves, over and over.

"I've found that denial is something that can only hurt us in the end," he said, gently.

For a few moments there was absolute silence in the vast Kitchens, all the House Elves immediately became immediately engrossed in whatever task was in front of them.

Distantly, the bell signalling the end of lunch echoed through the school.

"I think you are probably right about that, sir," she said, evenly, meeting his steely-blue gaze with her own, level stare.

"But _I_ am telling the truth."

She stood, and picked up her schoolbag.

"If you'll excuse me, sir, Professor Flitwick will be expecting me."

Without waiting for permission, and with tremendous dignity she walked out of the Kitchens.

Dumbledore watched her go, frowning deeply, staring at the back of the painting of the bowl of fruit for quite some times, thoughtfully.

He was still there at four o'clock, when he scared the living daylights out of Peter Pettigrew and James Potter, who had snuck in for a post-Transfiguration snack.

He excused himself, their arrival having jolted him out of his thoughts, and left the two boys gazing after him, dumbfounded.

0o0o0o0

"_No_ Alice, this is _not_ up for discussion!"

Jenny, who had taken refuge after Charms in the shadowy nook on the Transfiguration corridor, looked up in surprise. In all the years that she'd known him, she had never heard Frank Longbottom raise his voice.

"And why is that?" a second voice demanded; Jenny immediately recognised its owner as Alice Roberts, Frank's girlfriend, and all-round Very Nice Person. "You _know_ what people are saying!"

"And _you_ know my answer," he said, seriously. "You do believe me, don't you?"

Jenny winced.

There was a pause, and after it Alice's voice was much softer.

"Yes, of course I do, Frank," she said, and Jenny imagined them stepping closer to one another, an acknowledgement of their mutual affection. Her heart ached with jealousy for the same, simple contact. She pushed it away, disgusted with herself.

"But after what she did to Remus –"

"I don't believe she did _anything_," said Frank, firmly, and Jenny felt a rush of gratitude for her friend – loyal to the end.

_He should have been a Hufflepuff,_ she thought, fondly.

"And that is something else that is not up for discussion," his tone was calmer now, but still not one you'd lightly argue with.

"But Madame Pomfrey –"

"There's a first time for everything," he said. "Everyone makes mistakes and Madame Pomfrey is no exception."

"And if she _hasn't_ made a mistake?"

Jenny could imagine Alice's face; she sighed, sadly. It was very difficult to make Alice dislike anyone, and she had incurred the undying hatred of the nicest girl in school.

"Then Jenny will need a friend more than ever," he said, with obvious resolution. "And that is what I intend to be, with or without your blessing."

Alice sighed, heavily.

"You really believe her, don't you?" she said, and Jenny supposed that Frank had nodded, since Alice continued: "You're too nice, sometimes, Frank. I suppose we'll have to agree to disagree."

"Yes," said Frank, firmly.

"Alright," said Alice. "I won't bring it up again, since we both know our minds."

"Thank you," said Frank, sounding relieved.

Jenny listened to their receding footsteps and stared blankly at the wall of her nook.

Before all this nonsense, she and Alice had got along rather well: to hear her open condemnation and dislike had been very hard indeed.

She brushed away a few, angry tears, trying to crush the wave of guilt that was washing over her. Frank had been so kind, and he and Alice were so _good_ together… she hated to think that she might have jeopardised that.

She scrubbed at her neck, irritably. The skin there was still burning; Jenny lost her temper – with it, with the other students, with the universe.

_What the hell is going on?_ she thought, furiously.

Huffing, she grabbed her satchel and made a beeline for the nearest girls' bathroom.

Dropping her bag by the sink, she loosened her tie and moved the neck of her shirt out of the way.

She caught her breath as her fingers passed over a ridge of minute bumps; they were red and angry looking, as though something was pushing its way up through the skin of her neck.

A bubble of fear blossomed in the pit of her stomach as she traced the line of lumps behind her neck and down her back with her fingers. They ran on her other side, too.

Shaking slightly, she pulled the first few buttons of her shirt open; the lines continued down her chest, along the far side of her breasts and – after further, frenzied investigation – down the sides of her abdomen. Further, even: they grated against the elastic and rough fabric of her skirt.

Trembling, she met her eyes in the mirror; cold, glinting yellow eyes stared back at her from her own face, and she bolted from the room, utterly terrified.


	9. Twilight

Sirius wandered around the edge of the forest, kicking at the moss.

It was full moon, and Remus had insisted that they leave him alone this time. The last two transformations had been rough: the wolf could feel Remus's rage and betrayal and was reacting accordingly. He'd tried to break free of his escort the first time, looking for a way to find her and appease his lust for revenge.

They had been hard pressed to keep him away from the Castle, and last month they had decided instead to stay inside the Shrieking Shack. As a plan, this had backfired quite horrifically when the werewolf realised that his pack weren't going to let him out to run (and preferably eat his ex-girlfriend).

After the initial whining and cajoling he'd turned violent and they had been forced to make a swift exit, leaving him to tear the shack – and, inevitably, himself – to shreds.

This month Remus had made them swear blind that they wouldn't go anywhere near him. There had been an immediate and silent agreement between the three boys to spend the night guarding the entrance to the tunnel, just in case.

Peter was staked out by the entrance with a large stockpile of Bertie Botts and his Charms homework. He'd volunteered to be the closest since when he transformed he was the hardest to catch.

James was skulking around the shack itself in case it all went suddenly quiet – then he'd know that Remus had found a way out. Sirius did not envy him: spending a night listening to his best friend rip pieces of flesh from his body was not Sirius's idea of fun.

Sirius rounded the edge of the forest that led up to the Castle, keeping just inside the trees, so as to keep out of the sight of prying eyes.

He hated that all this was necessary.

He had really liked Jenny, and liked how happy she made Remus. He would never have thought that it would end like this: really, he would have thought that they were both far too nice. There had been a time when he had thought that Remus would never take enough of a risk to let her in, but he had, and he'd fallen in love with her, and the twisted bitch had broken his heart.

Remus had been so utterly devastated by her betrayal that it had taken a good couple of hours before they could get anything coherent out of him, and when they finally had, the four of them had simply sat around, staring at one another in total disbelief.

He kicked at a stone.

It would almost have been better if she'd at least been honest with everyone, once the story was out, but she hadn't. Her behaviour in that respect was almost arrogant in that respect, and that had surprised him more than anything. Really, there were some things that you just couldn't hide forever, and pregnancy was definitely one of them.

As a physiological process it became pretty damn' obvious pretty damn' fast.

He didn't understand why she was still bothering.

Initially, they'd tried to work out who she'd been with, but although there were rumours – some of them quite ridiculous – there really wasn't anything solid.

Until they'd seen his obvious disgust and following depression, most people had simply assumed that she and Remus had got carried away. These days, the smart money was on Frank Longbottom, but Sirius didn't believe it for a second. True, he was the only person in the school that was still friends with the lying tart, but that didn't prove anything.

Besides, a tiny part of him forced to admit, if anyone needed a friend right about now, it was Jenny. As much as he hated what she'd done to his best friend, he wouldn't begrudge her that.

He had watched – and taken part in – the systematic abuse that pretty much the entire school was now subjecting her to, and he didn't envy her position. She seemed to have retreated into herself, as if she was fading away. It had been several weeks since she'd been in the Great Hall during a meal time, and a few shrewd glances at the Marauder's Map under the table had confirmed James's suspicion that she had taken refuge in the kitchens. It had placed an immediate embargo on the place – at least during the day.

The most worrying thing, as far as he was concerned, was her unexpected absence from class earlier in the day. No one had commented on it, but he'd noticed Professor McGonagall's eyes flicking to her empty seat more than once, and he'd guessed that she wasn't supposed to be gone.

It had affected Remus too: he'd been having a reasonable day up until that point, considering that it was full moon. Her absence was enough to remind him why he was angry with her, and he had been surly and difficult for the rest of the day, until James had frogmarched him to the Hospital Wing.

James had told him when he got back that jenny wasn't there, either.

It was with some surprise, therefore, that he found her, hunched up on a large rock by the edge of a Lake.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" he demanded, stalking towards her.

Jenny started at his shout, uncoiling in surprise. She stared up at him, as if conversation was something that she couldn't quite manage at the moment.

He took her arm, roughly, and pulled her along at a punishing pace. She stumbled and nearly fell, so he slowed down with a frustrated grunt.

"It's full moon, in case you didn't notice," he growled, as he led her around the building to the small door in the wall by the greenhouses. "And I _know_ you know what that means."

He made short work of the lock and pushed her – reasonably gently – through the open door.

He was in the process of closing it after her when he heard her mumble:

"I _had_ noticed."

He paused, suddenly very aware of how small and vulnerable Jenny had looked on that rock.

He opened the door again; Jenny hadn't moved.

He gave her an appraising look, reeling a little from the shock of her admission – if that's what it was. He had to admit, he couldn't think of what else she could have intended, willingly staying outside on full moon.

She was pale and drawn, as if she'd aged a great deal in a short amount of time; there were dark circles under her eyes and she moved her hands and arms restlessly as though peace was something that happened to other people. Her face was stained with dirt and tears.

She looked nothing like the bright, bubbly girl that Sirius remembered, and he wondered how long it had been since he'd looked at her properly.

Her eyes were focussed on the stone floor beneath her, and for a reason that he couldn't name he felt profoundly grateful for this; he wasn't sure he wanted to see what was in them.

"You wouldn't do that to him," he said, as calmly as he could; Jenny's demeanour had rattled him. "Whatever else you are, you're not cruel."

A flash of something close to pain crossed her features.

"He wouldn't remember," she said, quietly. "I looked it up."

"He'd figure it out," said Sirius, stunned. "And it would kill him."

She looked up at him then, with a long, considering stare that scared the life out of him. Eventually she nodded, and looked away.

Sirius glanced behind him at the open door and made his mind up; James and Peter would assume that he'd been caught, and he couldn't leave her like this.

He shut the door and locked it; when he turned back she had gone. He spotted her walking slowly and silently between the Greenhouses, looking for all the world like a ghost in the moonlight.

"Jenny, wait," he called, and hurried after her.

She led him into the very last greenhouse. The plants bent to her, brushing against her clothes and hair in greeting as she passed. She sat down under a shelf full of infant Flutterby Bushes, crossing her legs in the clean soil; her clothes were immediately covered in loam, and Sirius frowned at her lack of care.

He followed after her with some caution, remembering her distant, teasing threats of death-by-Venomous-Tentacula.

He hovered over her uncertainly, feeling awkward and intrusive. Jenny didn't seem to care one way or another whether he stayed or not, and that worried him even more. Reminding himself that this girl had once been his friend, he dragged another old log over and sat down beside her.

They stayed like that, silent and uncomfortable, for sometime. Sirius shot her uneasy looks in the strange, silvery glow of the moonlit greenhouse while she fiddled with something around her neck. It glinted gold in the moonlight.

"Why are you here, Sirius?" she asked, suddenly, breaking him out of his uneasy thoughts.

He gave her an odd look before answering with perfect honesty.

"Because you were trying to kill yourself," he said, and she laughed.

It was a terrible laugh: horrible and desperate, suggesting that Jenny was already thigh deep in a tide of madness that no one but her had seen approaching. It seemed to be rising fast, increasing as each echo brought the awful laughter back to them in the large glass building.

Sirius was hard pressed not to run; his fingernails bit into the bark of the wood beneath him. Normal people were not supposed to sound like that. Crazy people, murderers and the odd old lady had lived next door and had around fifty cats, yes: classmates sitting next to you in an abandoned greenhouse, no.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," she said, after the unsettling reverberations ceased. "I was trying to kill _it_."

Sirius stared at her.

"Not that I think you should," he said, in a tight and frightened voice. "But I think there are less lethal ways to have an abortion."

She whipped her head towards him, and for a second she looked a lot like the old Jenny – albeit with a face contorted with anger.

"Do I fucking look pregnant to you?" she demanded.

Sirius was taken aback by her fury and gaped at her in shock.

"Do I _feel_ pregnant?"

Kneeling beside him, she seized his hand and pressed it against her abdomen. He sputtered indignantly before available information began to trickle through into his consciousness.

He splayed his fingers out across her obviously flat stomach, confused.

"But you're – you're at least five months along," he said, bewildered. "You should be the size of a watermelon by now…"

Jenny forced another dreadful laugh and slumped back onto the floor, her back against the wall.

"So you'd think," she said, bitterly.

Sirius looked around, at a loss for what to think or do.

What if everyone had got so caught up in the idea that Jenny was pregnant that they'd completely missed the fact that she wasn't?"

"B-but Madame Pomfrey –"

"I don't care what _she_ says," Jenny spat. "She might mean well, but she had no idea what's wrong with me."

There was a long pause in which Sirius looked at her – _really_ looked at her. In the place of the vibrant girl that he had taught himself to hate was a fragile, utterly terrified young woman.

He had never seen anyone look so lost in his life.

"What do _you_ think is wrong with you?" he asked, and it was Jenny's turn to be surprised.

She frowned at him, perplexed that someone would bother to try to find out what she thought after so many months of being belittled and ignored.

"I think that there's something growing inside me," she said, with a deeply serious expression. "Something terrible… I think that it's going to use me up until there is nothing left of me than a husk, and then it's going to get out of me and hurt people."

There was an awful, yawning silence.

Sirius longed to crack a joke, or tell her that it just wasn't possible, or insist that she was mad, but he didn't.

He stayed silent, unnerved by the intense stillness of her body, the calm way she had spoken, and the bleak, cavernous pain in her eyes… He didn't want to believe her, but the way she was looking at him frightened him, suggesting that maybe – just maybe – what she had said was true.

He swallowed, never taking his eyes from her dreadful, intense expression.

"Why?"

Slowly, and with the glint of fresh tears in her eyes, the shifted the neck of her school shirt. There, under her skin, were a series of ridges, running down her neck and under her shirt. They were raw, as if she had been scratching at them, and her skin was red and taut, as though something was trying to break through.

"They came up yesterday," she whispered, and her voice was both fragile and hoarse. "I can feel it getting stronger. It wants to get out – and I don't know how to stop it."

With that, she burst into noisy sobs. Sirius pulled her to him without a second thought, and she collapsed against him completely, fairly screaming into his chest.

He held her tightly, wracking his panicked brains for a way to help her – chances were there would be nothing he _could_ do.

He didn't like the thought of _that_ at all.

As he rocked her shaking form he thought of Remus, pacing back and forth in the Shrieking Shack. He was going to _hate_ himself when he found out about this…

Sirius rubbed her back as she cried.

"I'm so sorry, Jenny," he said, into her hair. "We should have listened to you… It's going to be ok…" he added, after a moment's thought. It didn't sound convincing, even to him.

He didn't know how long they were sat there, but when Jenny finally straightened up the air inside the greenhouse was cool and still, and none of the usual domestic sounds of the Castle winding down for the night could be heard.

"We'll figure it out," he assured her. "I promise."

Jenny rubbed her hands over her face, which was blotchy and red from her tears.

"I mean it," he said, getting to his feet and wincing at his cramped muscles. "Whatever it is, Jenny, it's not going to win."

He held out his hand.

She swayed slightly as she stood, and he offered her an arm, which made her laugh, wetly.

It was a much less frightening sound, this time.

"You need to get some sleep," he said, leading her out of the greenhouses.

She offered him a watery smile.

"Such gallantry," she said, and Sirius was glad that there was still some of the old Jenny in there.

They parted outside the kitchens, and she pressed his hand briefly.

"Thank you," she said. "For believing me." She kissed him lightly on the cheek, and he found himself blushing. "Look after Remus for me, would you?"

She let go of his hand and walked steadily towards the entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room.

Sirius watched her go with a frown on his face. There was still something in her eyes that unsettled him – that he couldn't quite place.

As soon as the barrel had fallen back into place behind her, he turned up the Main Staircase, expression grim.

He had work to do.

0o0o0o0

Ron lay on his back, one arm haphazardly flung across his eyes.

It was an unreasonably warm day and three two-hour revision sessions had taken their toll on his sanity. He had been dozing, he knew, and he had a nasty suspicion that he'd missed dinner, but he just couldn't bring himself to move.

He barely even flinched when he heard the dormitory door open. Both Seamus and Dean were in detention with Professor Flitwick for nearly demolishing his classroom – albeit accidentally. Harry and Hermione had been bravely trying to get more homework done, but Ron hadn't been able to stomach it.

"You alright?" Neville's voice asked.

Ron cracked an eyelid. He was hovering next to Ron's bed with – of all things – a plate piled high with food.

"Just dozing," he said, sitting up.

"You missed dinner," said Neville, dropping the plate on Ron's bed.

"Cheers!" said Ron, surprised. "Where'd you get this?"

"The kitchens."

Ron paused with a sausage roll halfway to his mouth.

"Fred and George told me where they were," he said, dropping his schoolbag on his bed with a grin. "And I felt like breaking the rules."

"Bloody hell, mate," said Ron, with his mouth full. "Umbridge must really be getting to you… although right now I'm glad she is."

Neville laughed.

"Pass me a bit of that cake, will you?" he asked, spreading his Herbology homework out on his bed. "I'm going to need the fuel."

"Why aren't you working downstairs?" Ron asked, throwing the requested cake at his friend's head.

"Hermione," he said simply, brushing crumbs off his uniform. "She keeps trying to improve my revision schedule. She means well," he added, after a moment's thought.

"Doesn't mean it doesn't get on your nerves, though," said Ron. "Much as we love her, eh?"

Neville grinned, and then promptly dropped his quill as the door of the dormitory bounced noisily off the wall. Ron looked up from his stolen pastry in confusion.

Harry stood in the doorway, looking triumphant.

"Let me guess," said Ron. "Hermione finally went mad from all the stress and set fire to a teacher's robes again."

"Ooh," said Neville, who was retrieving his fallen quill from under his bed. "_Please_ let it be Umbridge."

"That would be _epic_," said Harry, taking a few seconds to savour the mental image. "But no – I got some post."

"Good for you," said Neville, and frowned. "What did he mean, 'again'?" He turned to Ron when Harry remained uncommunicative. "What did you mean, 'again?"

"I'll tell you later," said Ron, who was watching Harry's enthusiasm worriedly. "Who from?" he asked him.

"Your Dad," he said. "And some for you, Neville."

"For me?" he asked, surprised. "Why would Ron's Dad be writing to _me_?"

Ron explained about the discovery of the box of photographs at Grimmauld Place as Harry fished around in the package and handed them over. Neville looked overjoyed.

"Oh, _wow_," he said, flicking through the pictures.

They spread the pictures out on Neville's bed, his homework entirely forgotten. Harry and Ron spent a pleasant half hour relating the various stories that Remus and Sirius had told them, explaining why the people in the pictures were – variously – soggy, upside-down, burnt and (at least once) covered in treacle.

"I didn't know our parents were friends," said Neville, softly, eyes glued to the flickering images.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "It's the kind of think you'd think people would mention, since we're friends too."

They were quiet for a moment, and Remus suspected that they were imagining what it might have been like, growing up together.

_It would have been a better world_, he thought, with a pang of sadness. He just couldn't imagine life without his family, as mad as they drove him sometimes. _Even bloody Percy_.

He wondered what his friends' lives would have been like… they would probably all have met up when they were younger, gone to children's parties, been taken to Quidditch matches… would Harry have read the same comics as him? Would Neville have learned to ride a broomstick?

Would they have had brothers and sisters?

Ron smiled slightly, trying to imagine either of his friends being followed around by a tiny red-headed sister or a small, blond little brother.

It was a pleasant image, and he sighed as it faded, wishing that it could have been different for them.

Neville began to gather up the pictures, selecting one – of his parents sitting side by side, somewhere on the grounds – to prop up on his bedside table. Harry put his hands into his pockets, looking suddenly awkward.

"Oh," he said in surprise, pulling out a crumpled envelope. "I forgot. This came from the Registry Office at the Ministry."

"About Jenny?" Ron asked, suddenly interested.

Harry nodded.

"Who's Jenny?" asked Neville, curious, so they told him.

"But don't tell Hermione," Harry finished. "Because she'll tell us to mind our own business."

"She'd probably try to confiscate the letter, the mood she's in at the minute," said Ron, darkly, as Neville nodded.

"We sent off to the Registry Office to see if we could find anything out," said Harry, waving the letter.

"There's practically nothing about her in the archives here," Ron explained, as Harry practically tore open the envelope. "She was pretty good at Herbology, though, you would have got on."

Neville grinned.

"What does it say?" he asked Harry.

"Dear Mr Potter, blah blah blah…" Harry scanned the letter. "I've enclosed the documents that you requested – oh, and they found some newspaper articles for us…"

He passed half of the bundle to Ron and half to Neville; he unfolded an official looking piece of parchment.

"Oh," he said again, a funny look on his face.

"What?" asked Neville, mildly concerned about his friend's sudden change in complexion.

"It's weird," said Harry. "I knew she was dead and everything, but it's like it's more real now I'm holding a copy of the Death Certificate in my hand…"

"What's the cause of death?" Ron asked, frowning down at one of the newspaper articles. "It says here that there was an inquest."

"Drowning," said Harry, a slightly hollow note in his voice. "And it talks about other injuries." He turned the paper over, frowning. "It's pretty vague – oh, that's so _annoying_…"

"You need to see this," said Neville, who had been poring over his part of the bundle. "It's the results of the inquest."

He passed Ron the parchment, looking pale. Harry peered over his shoulder.

They looked at one another in shock.

"Bloody hellfire," said Ron.


	10. Full Dark

He looked at his watch for the fifth time in half an hour, growing ever more frustrated.

Sirius was pacing up and down outside Professor Oakley's office, waiting for his teacher to return from some errand or other, looking for all the world like a caged animal.

He could feel precious time slipping by him – time that Jenny almost certainly didn't have. He knocked on his Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor's door for a third time, hoping vaguely that Professor Oakley had been doing something important with his earmuffs on, but to no avail.

He thumped the door in frustration and stalked down the corridor, intending to find the man even if he had to check the staff room, all the teachers' offices and both pubs in Hogsmeade. Fortunately, however, he met Professor Oakley on the Main Staircase, and was forced to do a sort of mid-air pirouette between staircases.

"Steady on there, Black," he said, amiably.

"Sir, can I ask you a question?" Sirius asked, trotting along beside him.

Professor Oakley gave him a look which suggested that whatever Sirius was after, it wasn't going to end well for someone.

"And if I were to – say – _casually_ mention that it is after curfew, I imagine that that would have absolutely _no_ impact on you, would it?"

Sirius gave him his best Marauder grin, feeling wretched.

"No, I rather thought not…"

They had reached the door to his office now, and Sirius eyed it hopefully.

Professor Oakley sighed.

"Alright, you'd better come in," he said, with a sense of resignation. "What did you want to know?"

He pulled off his cloak and hung it up on a hook behind the door.

"I was reading about magical maladies," he lied, taking the seat that Professor Oakley had waved him towards. "And I came across this one I didn't really understand."

Professor Oakley steepled his fingers and looked at Sirius with cool, green eyes.

"Don't take this the wrong way," he said, evenly. "But your sudden attack of scholarly fervour is a little unnerving."

Sirius grinned, despite the urgency he felt; he had spent the last six and a half years deceiving his tutors, and now he intended to put all that practice to good use. Besides, Professor Oakley was one of the good ones, and Sirius liked him: he was a good teacher, treated his students fairly and was always scrupulously honest.

"I've never got less than an 'E' in any of my subjects," said Sirius. "I'm assuming you didn't all think I was copying off Remus…"

He trailed off. Talking about Remus made his chest a little tight.

"Are you seriously telling me that you do most of your work at night – clandestinely?"

"I _do_ have a reputation to keep up," he said, lightly.

Professor Oakley chuckled.

"Well, I won't tell anyone," he said, with an amused smile. "What did you want to know?"

"There's this article in an eighteenth century journal that Remus had – but he didn't have the whole thing," Sirius invented. "It had all the symptoms, but nothing about what actually happened – it's really annoying me."

"I'm curious," said Professor Oakley, after a moment. "Why did you ask me instead of Madame Pomfrey?"

"It looked more like a curse or something," Sirius shrugged.

"Alright," said Professor Oakley, sitting back. "What were the symptoms?"

Sirius listed Jenny's symptoms, trying to disguise them as best he could by saying them out of order, but leaving the lumps until last.

Professor Oakley closed his eyes, thinking hard.

Sirius waited impatiently, fighting to maintain a calm exterior.

"It doesn't sound like a curse," Professor Oakley said at last. "They tend to have more of an immediate impact, and from what you've told me this is more of a long-term thing…"

"What, then?" asked Sirius, eagerly.

"I'd say it's more like a demonic possession."

Sirius felt his heart plummet like a lead weight.

_Surely not…_

"From what you described," Professor Oakley continued, "it reminds me of a case I read – years ago now – in an old Muggle book of Chinese legends."

Sirius hung on his every word, desperate and afraid.

"There was a young girl who lived with her father: a peasant in a small valley in Eastern China – she was called Weeping Jade. Weeping Jade was all the things a mythological peasant girl should be: beautiful, nimble and kind. She was also, unusually, clever. She spent her days roaming the countryside with the other local children, learning the secrets of the plants around her, that sort of thing.

"One day, Weeping Jade returned from one of these jaunts to find her father lying still in his bed, pale and sweating. They sent for the local sage, who lived in a monastery in the mountains; he was old, and blind, and wise. He told the girl that her father had a wasting sickness, and that he would die very soon. She begged the sage to save her father, but he said that he couldn't help her – the only thing that could save her father was the juice of a special kind of plum that grew on the edges of certain sacred pools.

"No one had seen one of these plants in decades, but Weeping Jade recognised the description. She ran to a pool in the middle of the nearby forest, where the water was always still and calm. There, on the banks of the pool, was the plum. Weeping Jade reached through the reeds to pick the largest and juiciest plum. As she was pulling it out from under the great, furled leaves, she caught her leg on a part of the plant that was under water and cut it open.

"Weeping Jade bound the cut and carried the precious plum back to the sage, who told her how to prepare the juice and feed it to her father. As soon as the juice touched her lips, colour flooded back to his face and he opened his eyes. The villagers rejoiced. As per the sage's instructions, Weeping Jade carefully fed her father three drops of plum juice every day, and every day he got stronger.

"But as he got stronger, Weeping Jade got weaker, and her father went to the sage once more, to find out what was wrong. The sage, who had become fond of the girl, spoke to her and discovered that Weeping Jade thought that she was being haunted. Every night a cruel man in the form of a terrible blue dragon came to her dreams and whispered awful things to her in her sleep. It wanted her to hurt the villagers, she said, and she was desperately afraid.

"The sage was rather at a loss and went away to the monastery in the mountains to consider the problem. The girl's father watched her diminish, growing weaker and more frightened every day. After a month, the sage came back down the mountain with a grim countenance. He had consulted his fellow scholars, and together they had decided that Weeping Jade had become a vessel for a water demon. It must have found a way in, he said, through the cut on her leg.

"The sage did not know what to do, and in desperation he and the girl's father prayed to their ancestors, and to the August Personage of Jade for help and guidance. He took pity on her suffering, and sent the sage's grandmother to him in a dream. She told the sage to pray to the Jade Rabbit, who continuously pounded medicine in his celestial mortar and pestle on the moon. This they did, and when they woke the next morning they found a bowl full of a dark paste at the foot of Weeping Jade's bed.

"They sent prayers of thanks to their ancestors, the August Personage of Jade, the Jade Rabbit and anyone else they could think of. When Weeping Jade awoke, they had the women of the village undress her – and when they did, several of them screamed and fled, finding thorns forming under her skin. The August Personage of Jade turned the cowardly women into birds as punishment, which is why birds are always skittish.

"The remaining women washed Weeping Jade and covered her from head to foot with the balm. Weeping Jade began to shake and wail, and the villagers were afraid. The girl struggled and shook, and the sage realised that the balm was not strong enough to exorcise the demon. The Jade Rabbit, who had been keeping a watchful eye on proceedings, took pity on the girl, and tried to get closer to her in order to ease her pain. The trouble was, in order to stay true to his oath to the August Personage of Jade he couldn't leave the moon. In his desperation to help her, he simply made the moon come out early, and it shone down on Weeping Jade, making her skin shine blue through the balm. The demon quaked in fear under the moon and in terror it jumped out of Weeping Jade and into the light.

"Everyone cowered in terror as the demon towered above them – he was taller that any man, with scales of vibrant, shining blue. He gave a great, rattling roar and the villagers thought that he would kill them, but all of a sudden, the blind sage started to laugh. Because he was blind, he couldn't see the demon's fearsome appearance, but he _could_ hear the rasping in his voice.

"Without Weeping Jade and away from the water the demon could not draw breath, and by inches he died. The village as a whole rejoiced – although presumably not the families of the woman who had been transformed into birds – and immediately held a festival in the honour of the August Personage of Jade and his faithful Jade Rabbit. They burnt the body of the demon at the peak of the festival, and Weeping Jade grew up healthy and beautiful. The sage made her his particular favourite and taught her the secrets of the scholars. She tended to the people of the region as a witch, and thereafter no rabbits were ever eaten or killed in the province, and Weeping Jade forever wore a necklace of thorns."

Professor Oakley steepled his fingers and looked over them at Sirius.

Sirius, whose mouth had gone dry, coughed.

"It's quite a story," said Professor Oakley. "Don't you think?"

Sirius coughed again.

"Yes sir," he said, in a voice that didn't really sound like him. "Thank you, sir," he added after a moment's thought.

"Your article was probably a myth in itself," Professor Oakley said. "Based on the original Chinese legend. These things get embellished over the centuries – you find people believing in the most extraordinary things."

Sirius thought about this for a moment, and was briefly tempted to point out that they lived in a magical castle. He resisted, barely.

"You don't think it might have been real?" Sirius asked. "Not the bit about the rabbit in the moon, or what-have-you, but the stuff about the demon…"

Professor Oakley rubbed his chin, thoughtfully.

"Many myths do begin with a grain of truth," he allowed. "And many things that we know as dark creatures were at one point thought of as demons…"

"It was quite a specific description," said Sirius, clinging to the scant information that he had.

"True," said Professor Oakley, generously. "But something like that would probably have been noticed by now – given that we _haven't_ heard of it, if it ever existed at all, it's pretty much guaranteed to be extinct."

Sirius just about managed to stop himself adding: '_until now'_.

"Right," said Professor Oakley, getting to his feet. "Much as I have enjoyed sharing my knowledge, it is well past both our bedtimes. Now," he said, as Sirius stood up. "I know I'm going to regret this, but I'm going to _trust_ that you will leave here and go immediately to bed."

"I will, sir," said Sirius, reasonably seriously. After all, while he wasn't intending to go to bed, it wasn't like he would be setting any pranks tonight.

"Hmm," said Professor Oakley, shrewdly.

"Thanks again," said Sirius, as he headed down the corridor.

"You're welcome," called Professor Oakley, shaking her head.

Sirius heard the door to the Professor's office click shut behind him and changed direction immediately.

Being the host for a demon wasn't the best prognosis he could have come up with, but at least now he had a starting point."

It was time to hit the library.

0o0o0o0

"Where's Sirius?" Lily asked, suspiciously.

They were stood outside Charms, waiting for Professor Flitwick to appear.

"He left a note," said James. "It said he thought he had Dragon Pox."

"I guess Madame Pomfrey agreed with him," said Peter, sleepily. "There's no way he'd have missed breakfast if she hadn't."

"Hmm," said Lily, who refused to believe anything that Sirius said on principle. "Oh, _damn_!"

With an extraordinary ripping noise, Lily's bag split along its main seam, spilling parchment and ink over the ground. An emerald stain started spreading up her skirt.

She swore; James stared at her.

"I didn't think you _knew_ words like that," he said, without thinking. He took in her expression. "We'll take care of this," he hurriedly assured her. "You go and see if you can fix that stain."

To his surprise (and relief), Lily agreed and hurried away.

She had almost washed the ink out when the door to the toilets opened behind her. She looked up, caught Jenny's eyes in the mirror and scowled.

Jenny went and sat on a sink at the end of the row while Lily glowered at the fabric of her skirt, determined to ignore the girl that had utterly devastated her friend.

"You have a Prefect's meeting with Professor Sprout tomorrow night, don't you?"

the question was such an odd one, and had come so completely out of the blue that Lily had looked up before she could stop herself.

"Yes," she said. "All the heads of house will be there, what of it?"

"Can you give this to Professor Sprout?" Jenny held out an envelope, neatly addressed to their Herbology Professor.

"Why should I?" asked Lily, determined to be angry on Remus's behalf.

"Please, Lily," said Jenny. "I won't be able to give it to her in person, and it's really important that she gets it."

"Why can't you give it to her yourself?" Lily asked, suspiciously.

"I'm going away," said Jenny, simply.

"Home?" asked Lily, nonplussed.

She wouldn't be able to finish her exams – her chances at employment in the Wizarding world would be shot to pieces.

"I think it's for the best," said Jenny.

She was still holding out the envelope, hopefully.

Reluctantly, Lily took it from her.

"Alright," she said, abruptly.

"Thanks," said Jenny. "Oh," she said, looking at Lily's skirt. "Here…"

With a flick of her wand, she dried Lily's skirt, and gave her a warm smile.

"Well, goodbye then," she said, and walked out of the bathroom, leaving Lily staring in her wake and feeling like a total heel.

"Good luck," she said, to the empty air.

0o0o0o0

"How are you doing, our kid?" Frank asked, sitting beside her in their private nook.

"Weary," said Jenny, in the gloom.

"You weren't in class again today," said Frank, full of concern. "The teachers are really starting to fret."

"Let them," Jenny said.

Frank frowned to himself. It had been months since they'd started trying to solve the mystery of Jenny's sickness, stealing hours from their leisure time to sit in the library and research magical diseases.

It had got them nowhere, and Frank was officially terrified. Whatever it was that had got a hold on Jenny wasn't letting go, and he had a very bad feeling about where it was trying to lead them.

"Maybe we should have another crack at Madame Pomfrey," he suggested, gently. "By now it's fairly obvious that you aren't pregnant, and if we can convince her…"

_We might have a chance at fixing you…_ he finished, internally. "We'll go together, tomorrow," he said, firmly. "After my rounds…"

Jenny sighed heavily, and Frank held his breath; he knew she wouldn't like this.

"She _has_ to believe you this time," Frank prodded, and he felt her sag beside him.

"I suppose so," she said.

"Good," he said, light-headed with relief.

They sat in an uncomfortable kind of silence for a few minutes. Frank got the bizarre impression that Jenny wanted to tell him something important, but simply wasn't letting herself.

"I should get off," he said, eventually.

"Yes," said Jenny, sounding exhausted. "Yes, I suppose you should."

There was a pause as he got to his feet.

"Frank?"

"What?"

"You're the best friend anyone could ever want, did you know that?"

"You'll make me blush, Jenny," he smiled.

"I mean it," she said. "I don't know what I would have done without you over these past few months. Thank you."

Frank pulled her into a hug.

"It's only what everyone else should be doing," he said, into her hair and she hugged him back tightly.

"Alice is a very lucky girl," she said, as they parted. "You take good care of her, you hear?"

"I fully intend to," said Frank, grinning. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah."

He ruffled her hair and dashed to Transfiguration, feeling more positive than he had in months.

Madame Pomfrey would know what to do.

0o0o0o0

Remus groaned as he woke up. His recent transformations had been violent and painful, and this month was no different. He had vague memories of Madame Pomfrey putting some kind of healing unguent on his many wounds after he had limped back to the Hospital Wing that morning, when he had fallen into a fitful doze. He'd half woken up a few times to someone gently reapplying the foul-smelling gloop to the worst of his cuts; he could have sworn, though, that Madame Pomfrey had said she would be in a meeting all afternoon.

He wriggle his extremities and winced; sore as he was, he felt a strange sort of peace this morning – almost like contentment. He frowned, puzzled, and then stopped, because that hurt too. Some kind person had put a cool, damp flannel on his head at some point, and he was grateful; the usual feverish headache had already diminished, and he was content – at least for a little while – to continue to doze.

After a while, the feeling stole over him that he wasn't alone. Unwilling to open his eyes just yet – because that would mean he'd soon feel guilty enough at his present idleness that the need to study would overtake him – he sniffed the air, curious.

He caught her scent and his eyes flew open in shock.

She was sat there, bold as brass, in the chair that was usually reserved for whichever Marauder had currently escaped class, detention or (frequently) justice. She hadn't tried to speak to him since he had broken up with her and in many ways he had been grateful. He wasn't sure that he could have any kind of conversation with the harlot that had so willingly taken his heart and jumped up and down on top of it.

And now here she was, sat not three feet away from him, watching him carefully. A wave of anger coursed through him, amplified by how pretty she looked in the fresh morning light.

_Pretty_, he thought, suddenly, _but utterly exhausted_.

Suppressing a growl, he pulled himself into a sitting position; he glared at her, waiting for her to say or do whatever fresh torture she had devised. It wasn't like he could leave.

"Hi," she said, almost shyly.

Remus continued to glare at her; he might not be able to leave, but that didn't mean he intended to make it easy for her.

"Looks like a rough one, this month," she said, and when this failed to elicit a response, stared at her knees.

Remus, who felt that the sooner whatever this was was over, the better, briefly let his impatience take hold.

"What do you want?" he demanded, teeth tersely trapping every syllable.

Jenny winced at his angry tone, but she brushed it off.

_Well_, he thought, crossly. _I should bloody well be angry._

"I wanted to talk to you," she said, uncomfortably.

"Oh, so you're finally going to come clean, are you?" he spat. "Fantastic. Who was it then?"

To his surprise, Jenny rolled her eyes at this; incensed, Remus felt like taking her by the shoulders and shaking it out of her.

While it really wouldn't matter who she had slept with, in terms of how angry he was (unless it had been James, Sirius, Peter or Frank, and he didn't believe that for a second), it was a question that had never been far from his mind over the past few months. He had found himself subjecting his classmates to jealous scrutiny, wondering just who it was that Jenny thought was better than him.

The ghost of a smile played about her pale lips, but she didn't look happy, just wry – as if there was some joke here that he just wasn't getting.

"There wasn't anyone," she said, with a sort of weary finality that surprised him just enough that he didn't scoff in derision.

"Of course not," he retorted. "This must be the second coming of the Messiah. An immaculate conception."

This time, he thought he saw a flash of anger in her blue-green eyes, and felt a momentary pang of guilt, which he squashed immediately. What right had she to be angry?

She looked away from him, her lips tightly pursed, as though she was steadying herself – preventing herself from saying something that she would regret.

"You can't actually make it worse, you know," he said, hotly. "So go ahead and say what you have to say."

He could feel the anger coursing through his veins now, and was aware that he was probably quite a sight, what with his flashing eyes and fresh wounds.

"I wanted you to understand," she began, but he cut her off with an indignant sputter.

"What more is there to understand?" he demanded, hotly. "You and some bastard – some utter bastard that is still walking happily around the school and smiling to my face – went and _fucked_."

She flinched at the word, but he was too angry to care.

"And now you're pregnant and on your own," he continued, with considerable venom. "And _he_ hasn't stayed with you, _has_ he? The _bastard_. And now you're stuck, all because you were too drunk or too easy to keep your legs shut!"

She slapped him then and he reeled from the blow, shocked.

"I'm glad I found out about you before we got any closer," he spat, wide eyed and furious. "Or I'd have spent the rest of my life with some cheap _tart_!"

It had all been bottled up inside him for too long, and he hadn't been able to stop himself. Part of him had hoped that he would feel better after he had said it, but he didn't. He just felt tired and dirty.

Jenny was looking at him with a curious expression on her face, somewhere between hurt and laughter.

His anger was ebbing now, giving way to pain and exhaustion. She looked so fragile sitting there, and for all that she had done to him he couldn't bear to hurt her.

He crossed his arms, feeling suddenly brittle and hollow inside.

He wished that she would stop looking at him like that.

"I'm sorry, Jenny," he said, more quietly. "Some things you just can't forgive."

There was that smile again. He didn't like that smile.

He let out a breath that he hadn't realised he was holding.

"Please just go," he said, and when she didn't move, he turned away from her, lying down on his side.

There was silence for a moment as he lay there, wishing that she would leave him alone. After a few, awful minutes he heard her chair scrape back; he sent a silent prayer to whichever deity was currently watching over him.

"You know," she said, and he felt his body tense. "Whatever you might think, I really do love you."

Remus swallowed, wishing that he was anywhere else – that things could go back to the way they were before he had first noticed her breathtaking smile.

"And I always will."

He listened as her footsteps retreated across the stone floor of the Hospital Wing, desperately trying to ignore the fresh sting of new tears in his eyes.

0o0o0o0

She stood quietly amongst the flowers.

It was dinner time, and she knew that everyone would be otherwise engaged.

She ran her fingers along the edge of the potting bench, smiling at the familiar sensations: the smell of the earth, the slightly warmer air inside the glass, the swishing sound of the Flutterby Bushes on the back shelves…

The plants bent to greet her as she walked through them, and she smiled as they touched her skin and hair, acknowledging them as friends.

When she reached the end of the greenhouse she closed the wooden door gently and walked quickly away, without looking back.

0o0o0o0

Sirius woke up with a start, and spent a few, bewildered seconds wondering why the hell he was cold and aching, and on the floor of the Astronomy Tower. He blinked at the pages scattered about him, covered with ancient script and horrific illustrations, and remembered.

He groaned, staggering to his feet in the darkness.

After he had left Professor Oakley's office, he had rushed to the Library and grabbed every book on ancient Chinese myths and demonology that he could carry and read until his mind had gone numb, and then he'd gone to find new books and read _them_ until the sun had come up.

Being noticed had then become something of a problem, particularly as Madame Pince was notorious for making an early start in the Library. Avoiding the restless ghosts of the Castle was one thing, but the possibility of encountering an ornery librarian far too early in the morning was a bit too much for Sirius. He'd gathered up everything he could carry and retreated to the Astronomy Tower, which was always empty during the day.

He'd read enough by then to know that what Jenny had inside her really was a demon – a particularly nasty one – and that she was in real trouble. Nowhere could he find a mention of how to get the thing out of her – without killing her. Some of the older stories spoke of a balm, and others of the power of Weeping Jade herself, but none of them mentioned ingredients, or incantations, or – when you got right down to it – anything vaguely useful. All they seemed to want to write about was the stupid Jade Rabbit.

He huffed, frustrated, and his breath steamed in front of him. He must have been asleep for hours. It was a wonder Peter or James hadn't come looking for him – unless they had managed to get caught again. He looked at the large pile of books, sadly.

He needed help.

He decided to wait for the pins and needles in his legs to diminish and then he would head back to the Gryffindor Tower. Convincing Madame Pomfrey would be much easier if it wasn't just him doing it.

He leaned against the railing, tired and aching from where he had been lying on the cold stone floor. He gazed out across the moonlit grounds, restlessly shifting from one leg to the other.

What if there was nothing that they could do?

It was a possibility that he really didn't want to face.

Instead, he thought of Remus, and how angry he was. Just a day before it had all seemed so easy: Jenny was the enemy and Remus the friend in need, but now…

_How_ was he supposed to break it to him? He wasn't going to t-

A movement between the trees below him caught his eyes and he craned to look, suddenly and inexplicably uneasy.

A figure was moving down by the edge of the lake – he couldn't quite make them out between the shadows. They moved into a patch of light between the trees and he saw her.

He watched, paralysed, as she took off her jumper, shoes and socks and took out her wand. Putting it carefully down between them she walked to the water's edge.

Sirius bolted for the door, almost wrenching it off its hinges, hoping desperately that he wasn't too late.

0o0o0o0

**I'm reasonably certain that you have a fairly good idea of what is going to happen in the next chapter. I've split that section from the text so if that is going to unnerve you then I'd recommend skipping to chapter twelve. If not, you have been warned.**


	11. Silence

Jenny closed her eyes and breathed in the cool evening air. It was almost sweet with the scent of hawthorn flower and pine emanating from the trees at her back, heralding the year turning towards the summer.

She had taken her shoes and socks off, and left her jumper folded neatly on the rock that she had come to think of as her own; she wriggled her toes appreciatively in the cool, slightly damp grass, revelling in the sensation.

There wasn't much of a breeze, and for that she was grateful; the air was cool on her bare arms, just the way she liked it.

Had it been any other night she would have gladly curled up on the roof of one of the Greenhouses to read or to watch the stars.

But it wasn't any other night.

Delicately, Jenny fingered the necklace that Remus had given her for her birthday, all those painful months before. The elegant porcelain rose glinted daintily in the light of the waning moon and she smiled, enjoying its simple beauty. She tucked the necklace back under her t-shirt and thought of him, choosing to dwell on the way things had been before all of this – when Jenny had hoped that they would be together for the rest of their lives.

She smiled at the memory of him, looking around at the dark forest and still, silvery lake, remembering how nervous he had been when he'd asked her out – and later when he'd trusted her with the truth of his condition… trusted her with the knowledge that could have destroyed him.

He was such a good and kind man, and she hoped that he'd find someone that could make him as happy as he deserved.

One day.

She thought of the children back at the home, of the clamour of their parties and daytrips, and peaceful evenings reading the young ones to sleep.

She thought of happy afternoons working with the plants in the greenhouses, feeling the good, clean earth under her fingertips and the simple joy of seeing the first seedlings appear in spring.

She thought of her friends, a rowdy and vibrant bunch that generally went unnoticed by the teachers, no matter what they did.

She thought fleetingly of Madame Pomfrey and Professor Sprout, genuinely concerned for her well-being.

She thought of Frank and Sirius, so intent on finding a cure for something that neither of them could fathom.

Jenny smiled, sweetly.

_Really,_ she thought, peacefully, _I'm so very lucky to have such wonderful friends._

With this in mind, she stepped into the lake, quickly finding that she couldn't stand up anymore. Surprised at the depth – and the shock of the cold water – she gasped, shaking water out of her eyes.

She swam out to the middle of the lake, enjoying the feel of the water and delighting in the movement after so many months of inactivity. She took a moment to look around; it seemed to Jenny that she was swimming in a lake of liquid silver. She glanced up at the Castle, thinking again of all her friends.

Soon, someone would notice her absence – having been out of class for the past two days the teachers would probably already be looking for her. She couldn't let them find her, that would never do.

The thing inside her stirred, perhaps guessing her intention.

She couldn't let it hurt them.

She _wouldn't_ let it.

Steeling her resolve, she took a deep breath and ducked under the water. The silence was so _loud_ beneath the surface…

A mass of pondweed and stone greeted her as she swam downwards, like something from another world. She felt a sharp pain in her neck and put her fingers to the wound. The blood floated away like a small cloud in the cold, clear water.

She hadn't expected it to fight back.

Jenny swam to the bottom of the lake, determined to keep her friends safe, and took hold of a thick root protruding from the lake bed.

Her lungs were beginning to burn from want of air, and a second wave of pain seared through her as long blue spikes thrust themselves through her skin.

Undaunted and relentless, she kept her hold on the root, anchoring herself to the floor of the pool.

_It isn't going to win_, she assured herself, as her vision began to blue with pain and delirium. _I won't let it hurt anyone else_.

Every part of her body was screaming at her to let go, but she ignored it, concentrating all her will on her hands, gripping desperately in the gloom.

In an agonising instant she felt the spines lengthen, bursting through her flesh; she cried out, and the lake water poured into her open mouth.

It seared her throat and lungs, making her choke and cough, desperate for air – but to no avail, there was only more water. She thrashed and shook in the water, bringing up silt and bits of pondweed that clung to her skin, but still she clung to the root, resolute despite her terror.

The root was the last thing she saw as her vision dimmed, the only thing keeping the thing that was trying to force its way out of her body away from her friends in the Castle.

Their lifeline.

Gradually, the movement in her body ceased, swathed in pondweed, and everything in that part of the lake was still.


	12. Falling Petals

Sirius thought his lungs might actually explode as he sprinted through the corridors of the school. He had to beat her to it, he _had _to.

He flashed past portraits and disturbed astonished students, illicitly canoodling in the nooks and crannies of the Castle. He dashed around corners, spinning suits of armour around at their posts, blind to anything except reaching the lake. He could barely hear over his pounding feet and thudding heart, sounding like a timpani drum inside his skull.

He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't _think_.

But there was nothing that was going to get in his way – he wouldn't let it.

Wrenching open the door to the Main Staircase at high speed, he careened into Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, sending all three of them to the ground like skittles.

In moments, he had disentangled himself from his teachers and was back on his feet, solidly ignoring his fresh bruises. Professor McGonagall's enraged roar sounded oddly muffled above him as he sprinted down the stairs, vaulting over the occasional uncooperative staircase.

At the door to the Greenhouses he ran straight through the Fat Friar, who cried out in alarm and floated rapidly after him, startled.

Gasping for breath, he somehow managed to shout out what he was about and where he had left McGonagall and Flitwick, and the Fat Friar shot off through a wall, his expression grim.

The cold night air slapped him in the face as he burst out of the greenhouse enclave and into the moonlit grounds. He skidded around the edge of the lake, praying that he wasn't too late.

Not even bothering with his shoes he leapt into the still and silent waters of the lake, swimming hard and fast down to the bottom.

His race from the Astronomy Tower had taken its toll, though, and after only a glimpse of the bottom he was forced to return to the surface.

He splashed around for a few, frantic seconds, trying to fill his lungs with precious air and orientate himself in the water. With a great gasp he plunged underwater a second time and swam downwards, desperately casting around for his friend.

A considerable amount of thrashing had churned up the lake bed, and the water was murky, making everything into vague, indistinct shapes in the gloom. Just when he thought that his lungs might burst he saw the edge of her white t-shirt in the murk.

He shot back to the surface again, gulping at the air before dropping down and swimming towards her as hard as he could. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

Jenny was floating in a cloud of what turned out to be silt and blood, her long golden hair flowing out behind her like the tendrils of pondweed that tangled about her limbs. It was if she was frozen in time, suspended above the bed of the lake.

He grabbed hold of her leg and tried to pull her up, but she was stuck fast.

He moved further down, using her body to pull himself along; he was terrified by her stillness in the roaring silence of the water.

Again, he tried to move her, looping his arms around her chest – but still she wouldn't budge. He grazed his arm on something sharp on her neck and cried out, letting out a stream of valuable air, his blood mingling with hers in the freezing water.

Ignoring it, he yanked at her arms, finally seeing through the darkness that her hands were locked defiantly around a large root.

Pushing any thoughts connected with _why_ she might hold on to a large root at the bottom of a lake, he pried her fingers loose and she came free; desperately, he pulled her upwards, his lungs burning with the effort. Just when he thought he could do no more he broke the surface and took a great, welcome gasp of air; frantically he made for the bank, trying to keep Jenny afloat.

She was heavy and limp in his arms, like an oversized rag-doll; he tried not to think about it as he dragged her onto the bank.

"Jenny!" he shouted, between coughs, the awful, yawning silence of the lake still ringing in his ears. "Wake up – _come on_ – _please_!"

He rolled her onto her back, intending to pound on her chest until she woke up, but gave a shout of horror at what he saw.

Her flesh was slick with silt and blood, but it couldn't disguise the long, sharp spikes that had ripped through her skin and clothes.

With an awful finality, Sirius realised what she had done, and why: the demon had tried to come out, and Jenny had tried to stop it.

Shoving unwelcome reality away, he pressed down on her chest, clearing her airways and trying anything – everything – he could think of to make her breathe again. He pressed his ear against her heart, grimly searching for the heartbeat that he just couldn't hear.

Distantly, shouts began filtering into his consciousness; the sound of running feet pounded at the earth, some way away.

He tried again, and again, pleading with her – with the sky – with any gods that would listen – but to no avail. He just couldn't seem to coax the life back into her.

The footsteps rang out against the hard ground around him and hands landed on his shoulders, trying to pull him away. Sirius clung to her, unwilling to relinquish his last, fleeting hope.

"Come away now," Professor Flitwick squeaked, his voice sounding oddly flat and lifeless. "Come on, Black, there's nothing you can do…"

Reluctantly, he let go of her, laying her gently down on the grass; he sat back on his haunches, stunned and defeated.

A blur of robes and hands were pulling at Jenny and gently edging him away; he watched, forlorn, as they checked her pulse, shook her gently, stroked her hair.

Abruptly, as they, too, came to the inevitable conclusion, the movement around her prone body ground to a halt. No one seemed to know what to do or say.

Beside him, Professor Flitwick burst into noisy tears.

Sirius couldn't take his eyes from Jenny's pale skin, or her tangled hair, stained red with her own blood. He stared at the vicious blue spines protruding through the fabric of a once-white t-shirt. The blood had swirled around her in the water, staining her ragged jeans.

_Jenny_…

Abruptly, he felt bile rising in his throat and he staggered to his feet; he stumbled to the edge of the forest and vomited, over and over again.

When it was over, he clung to the trunk of the nearest tree, feeling hollow and violated, like something vital had been ripped from his chest.

In a way, he supposed it had.

0o0o0o0

It had been a long night – and only a day after full moon, too. Perhaps taking on a late-night patrol had been a bad idea, but Remus wasn't one to shirk his responsibilities, full moon or no.

His visit from Jenny had shaken him badly, and he had been in an appalling temper all day, even snapping at Lily and Alice when he got back to the Common Room. He had badly needed to get outside, and his patrol duty had seemed just the thing.

In his rush to get away, he had forgotten that his partner was Frank Longbottom.

It had led to a rather trying patrol: the pain and exhaustion of his transformation had yet to fade, and every step jarred his aching muscles – and on top of this, Frank was still being ferociously polite.

He and Frank had always been good friends, each finding in the other a sturdy and studious ally amongst the ranks of insanity they cohabited among, but since the business with Jenny things had been rather strained. Since neither boy wanted to fight, they tried to keep conversation to safe topics like homework or Alice, but after a few minutes tense banter they would fall silent, each nursing their own grudge. It inevitably led to an uncomfortable and interminable patrol, and tonight was no different.

He could tell that Frank was bursting to say something, too, he kept glancing at him oddly. He was grateful that he was resisting: with the mood he was currently in he'd probably snap and start hexing him, and he didn't want to lose another friend.

It was incredibly wearing.

Tiredly, the two boys left the Owlery and continued their patrol. Tonight, their route extended to a cursory glance around the Grounds, hunting out amorous teenagers.

"Remus," Frank began, as they rounded the corner of the Clocktower.

Inside his head, Remus swore.

"I need to talk to you about –"

"I don't want to hear it, Frank."

"It's important –"

"No!" Remus snapped, rounding on his friend. "I want nothing more to do with her! Whatever you're going to say, just _don't._"

Frank sighed, looking as if this was the reaction he had expected, which irked Remus even more.

"Do you have any idea how much it hurts?" he asked, suddenly. "Watching her stumble through school – even just seeing her? Hearing her voice? All the time knowing that she preferred someone else?" He gave a hollow laugh. "Well, there are better ways for someone to find that out."

Frank was watching him with a pained expression. It struck Remus that it must be killing him to be stuck between his two friends like this, and he relented, the flash of anger fading as fast as it had struck.

He shook his head to clear it; he really didn't want to fight.

"I'm sorry Frank, it's just been a bastard of a day."

His friend nodded, sadly.

"I'm afraid I'm going to insist on making it worse," he said, quietly. "Hear me out – at least until we get to the end of the patrol, and then I promise I'll never bring it up ever again – on my honour."

Remus sighed, heavily.

"Fine," he said, irritably. "But I'm not going to be particularly pleasant about it. It's not in me."

His friend nodded, soberly.

"Ok," he said, and took a deep breath. "Jenny isn't pregnant."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Seriously, Remus, she can't be."

"Oh, and you're a fucking medi-wizard now, are you?"

"There's no way – physically I mean," Frank said, sounding incredibly uncomfortable.

Remus did the mental arithmetic and overtook him.

"She told you she hadn't –" even with Frank this was a weird conversation to have with one of his mates. "And you believed her?"

"I did," he said. "I do. _You've_ clearly never been with her –"

Despite his anger, Remus felt himself blush, right up to his ears.

"We were supposed to be waiting," he said, bitterly.

They fell into step, silent for a few minutes.

"When was the last time you saw her?" Frank asked, carefully. "I mean, for more than a few seconds."

"She came to see me in the Hospital Wing this morning," Remus admitted, morosely.

"Really?" Frank looked up at him, surprised. "Why?"

"Apparently to profess her undying love," he spat. "Does it bloody matter?"

"No, not…" he trailed off, apparently feeling that he had intruded. "Did you get a good look at her?"

"I couldn't help it," Remus snapped. "It wasn't like I could leave, was it?"

"Well then," said Frank, reasonably. "Did she look pregnant to you?"

"Yes," he snapped, without a pause.

"Really?"

"Yes…" he repeated, but this time he was much less certain. She had been sat in the chair beside him, and he'd been trying to avoid looking at her… He tried to recall her face: it had seemed pale and tired, not flushed with what he imagined would be the glow of motherhood…

"Yes," he said again, more firmly. "She must be."

Remus got the distinct impression that Frank was rolling his eyes at him.

"Look, I know you're angry Remus, anyone would be, but you can't let that stop you paying attention to things that are right in front of you."

Remus thought hard, trying to reconcile the image of Jenny with the motherly figure that had been tormenting his dreams.

"She'd be what – nearly six months gone, now?" Frank asked, and Remus felt himself nod. "Well where is it? Surely we'd be able to see it by now…"

Remus looked across at him, surprised.

"Sometimes women hardly show at all," he said, dubiously. "Our neighbour back home had a daughter and she never once looked like she was pregnant."

Frank gave him a look that plainly told him he was clutching at straws.

"No," he said, stubbornly squashing the panic that was forming in his chest. "Madame Pomfrey will have done tests and things."

"After her original 'diagnosis', Jenny wouldn't let her near her," said Frank, quietly.

They were heading back around towards the lake now, and they fell silent – largely, Remus suspected, so that he could digest this troubling nugget of information.

"Hey, what's that?" he said, suddenly, glimpsing a light up ahead.

"Don't change the subject –"

"No, I mean it," said Remus, pointing at the light. "Look."

There were a group of restless shapes, silhouetted against the silvery lake; one of them was holding their wand high, the light spilling on the others' faces.

It illuminated a group of apparently distraught teachers, swarming around something on the ground.

Frank and Remus exchanged a look; their teachers were usually fairly unflappable – it came from years of teaching in a school where 'Here be Dragons' could be a quite literal map annotation. Tonight they looked… _lost_.

And that frightened Remus a great deal.

Wordlessly, the two boys strode forward, wands already drawn, all thoughts of Jenny or enmity buried in the face of this new emergency. As safe as they were within the Castle grounds, the Daily Prophet brought news of battles and mysterious disappearances each morning. If their solid and dependable teachers looked that freaked out, there was a fairly high likelihood that the war had come to Hogwarts.

Without warning, Frank stopped dead; Remus nearly walked into him.

"What?" he hissed, suddenly wary.

"Merlin's beard," Frank whispered. "Look at McGonagall's face…"

Remus followed his friend's gaze: the usually imperturbable head of Gryffindor House looked as though she had been sobbing. Her long, silver hair hung loose down her back as if she had been running and she was wringing her hands distractedly

"Someone must be hurt," Remus mumbled, in horror.

If McGonagall had been moved to tears someone was more than hurt, but he didn't want to think about that. That sort of thing happened outside, not at Hogwarts.

For reasons that he couldn't fathom at all, he thought of Jenny, sitting by his bed that morning, looking pale and drawn.

He started forwards without really thinking about it, Frank keeping step with him; he caught glimpses of something lying on the ground between the swishing robes of the disarrayed staff. Something white…

_No_, he thought suddenly. _Someone. Someone wearing something white… Oh Gods…_

"_No!_"

The shout took him by surprise, and both he and Frank had their wands raised by the time Sirius reached them, appearing as if from nowhere.

He pushed Remus back with one hand and grabbed a handful of Frank's uniform with the other.

"Sirius!" Frank cried. "What the hell?"

"No, don't go any further," he begged them.

Remus put his wand away and tried to hang on to Sirius's arm; his friend was swaying dangerously.

He was caked in mud and water, fearfully pale and bedraggled; he looked like he'd just faced down a particularly unpleasant Boggart. He was soaking, as if he had fallen in the lake; his clothes clung to him, making him seem smaller than Remus remembered – he seemed to be trembling slightly, possibly with cold, though he wasn't so sure. There was a stench about him that Remus's over-developed senses immediately identified as vomit and blood.

"Please," Sirius panted, and met his eyes.

There was something indescribable in his friend's face – some unspeakable pain.

That did it; Remus felt himself begin to panic.

He _had_ to see who was hurt.

"Get off, Sirius," he said, and tried to push past him. Despite his obvious weakness, Sirius put his whole body in the way and pushed back; Frank, seized with fear at Sirius's alarming appearance and evident desperation, took the opportunity to duck under his other arm.

"No!"

Sirius made another grab for Frank but missed and stumbled to the floor.

Trying to convince his heart that it belonged in his chest and not his throat, Remus followed Frank towards the circle of teachers; they had heard Sirius's cry and some of them were moving to intercept the boys.

Madame Pince put a hand on his shoulder, and for a moment Remus was tempted to stop, to leave whatever had reduced his stalwart Professors to tears to them.

In front of him, Frank fell to his knees, and for a moment Remus was certain that his friend had been hexed.

He let out a terrible roar of agony – like a wounded bear – and it distracted Madame Pince sufficiently for Remus to see beyond her to the broken, lifeless body lying on the bank of the lake.

It was as if time had stopped entirely, with no thought of how everyone was supposed to get along without it. Remus stumbled forwards, numb.

It couldn't be her –

It couldn't be _real_.

He dropped to the ground beside her, no longer able to hear the adults' pleas for him to come away.

She looked so small, lying there… like a broken doll.

Jenny had never been so small.

Someone had closed her eyes.

He couldn't connect the fractured corpse in front of him with Jenny… with _anyone_. It didn't seem real…

It must be some kind of cruel trick – why couldn't his teachers see that? It was so obvious…

Delicately, he picked up her cold, wet hand; it hung limply in his, lifeless and macabre.

Through the strangely muffled tangle of sounds behind him, he heard Sirius's voice.

"Come away, mate," he said, softly, a hand on his shoulder. "Let them see to her…"

But he couldn't – couldn't any of them see that this wasn't Jenny – could never be Jenny? There was just too much life in her. It was some kind of appalling illusion, he was sure of it.

He reached out and gently pulled a strand of pondweed out of her hair, not really knowing what he was doing. He felt oddly disconnected, as though his body wasn't taking orders from him anymore.

He heard himself telling Sirius that it wasn't her: Jenny wasn't this fragile, or small, or colourless…

No – they were all wrong.

Had to be…

He ran a finger along one of the six-inch spikes protruding from her body; he saw, rather than felt the cut form on his hand and watched in fascination as his blood pooled and dripped onto her white, imperfect cheek.

0o0

It was Hagrid that had pulled him away in the end, lifting Remus and Frank as though they were lost toys. He practically carried them into the Castle, Sirius trailing despondently behind.

Hagrid deposited his charges on two of the beds in the Hospital Wing, and stood for a moment, unsure how to help them. He glanced at Sirius, who looked helplessly back; the big man shuffled off into Madame Pomfrey's tiny office, where it sounded like he was doing something with the kettle.

Frank curled up on his bed, turning away from the others. Sirius had a strong suspicion that his good-natured friend's heart had just been broken, and he dragged himself across to his bed, pulling a blanket over him as he shivered and wept.

Hagrid emerged from the office, looking – as he always did indoors – as though he was too big to be allowed. He found another blanket, which he draped over Sirius; he realised that his teeth were chattering and pulled the rough woollen fabric around himself.

Remus was silent, shaking harder than Sirius thought a person should, blood and mud smeared on his face and hands. Frank was still sobbing noisily, his head in his hands.

Sirius sat between them, shivering. His earlier adrenaline had left him now, and he slumped forward, his elbows on his knees.

He took the cup of hot, sweet tea that Hagrid pushed into his unresisting hands, and then took Remus's too.

His friend didn't appear to be processing events at all; Sirius put the teas down on the folding table at the end of the bed and took him by his shoulders, feeling powerless.

"Are you in there, mate?" he murmured, aware that Hagrid was still hovering awkwardly nearby.

Remus didn't respond, just kept muttering.

"It can't be her…"

Something hard and heavy formed in Sirius's chest. He had known, of course, that however much Jenny had appeared to hurt him, Remus was still very much in love with her. Looking at his friend, trembling with fear and the sheer force of his denial, Sirius wondered whether he would ever be the same again.

He rather doubted it.

Sirius frowned deeply and buried his grief: there would be a time for tears later. Right now, Remus needed him; Jenny would understand that.

Would have understood.

All three boys looked up as an inconsolable Professor Flitwick led her forlorn, covered stretcher into the Hospital Wing. Someone had put a crisp, white sheet over Jenny, but her hand had fallen out somewhere along the way, and it hung below the stretcher, delicate and oddly elegant.

They stared at the small, vulnerable thing as it passed them.

Suddenly frantic, Remus grasped the front of Sirius's sodden shirt and stared up at him.

"It's not really her, is it Pads?" he begged him. "It's a trick – she's alright – somewhere else, I mean…"

Sirius's heart broke for his friend; some of his emotion must have showed on his face because Remus crumpled. He broke down, finally having to accept recent events as truth. He collapsed against his best friend and Sirius wrapped his arms around him while he sobbed.

"_What happened to her_?"

0o0

It was some time before their distraught Professors let them leave that night. Sirius had sat in Madame Pomfrey's tiny office and explained to the assembled staff members what he'd found out, and what he had seen.

He tried to comfort Professor Sprout, who was almost inconsolable. He understood: she had lost one of her own.

Madame Pomfrey was bustling about the Hospital Wing, forcing Calming Draughts on anyone who stayed still long enough and trying not to look at the screens that Professor Oakley had wisely erected around the bed at the end of the room. Sirius had a shrewd suspicion that she too had pushed away her grief, and they shared a look of pained understanding as she handed him his Draught.

Sirius tactfully left it on a table, just out of sight, certain that Madame Pomfrey would understand that, too.

Professor Oakley had emerged from behind the screens with a ghastly expression on his face. He had given Sirius a look of deep sorrow and patted him on the back. Before he, too had been ushered out by the listless matron, he had whispered in Sirius's ear.

"You couldn't have helped her," he had said, softly. "But you tried, and I think she knew that you did, and that was the best anyone could have given her."

It had been a while before Sirius could meet anyone's eyes after that.

They had decided to keep Remus in the Hospital Wing overnight, which Sirius thought was probably for the best. The shock of Jenny's death had been compounded by the realisation that they had been inescapably, unforgivably wrong about her.

It had been a costly mistake, and one that Sirius was certain Remus would never fully recover from. He would blame himself, as he always did, and turn inward, and Sirius didn't know how to stop him. Particularly as it wasn't fair – Remus might not have believed Jenny, but neither had anyone else.

There had been a myriad of opportunities to save her that every one of her teachers and schoolmates had missed. They were – as far as Sirius was concerned – all equally culpable.

Except Frank.

Sirius shot him a concerned look as they stood, disconsolate and lost outside the Hospital Wing.

"Come on," said Sirius, coming to a decision. "You'll sleep in our dorm' tonight."

Frank followed him dumbly, and Sirius guessed that he, too, was castigating himself.

If only they had listened to her.

If only there had been something that Frank could have done.

They had obviously been waiting up for them – worried about their continued absence. Before he was through the Portrait Hole, Lily was on her feet, her arms on her hips, worry and annoyance printed all over her face and body.

"Sirius, where the hell have you been?" she demanded.

Sirius sagged a little: he _really_ didn't want to be the one to tell them, but right now he had little choice. He met Lily's eyes, miserably.

"My God," she said, all anger evaporating in the face of his distress. "What's wrong?"

They were all on their feet now.

Sirius stared around the circle of his friends, so brave and so noble – Gryffindors to the core… how they'd hated Jenny for what they'd thought she'd done.

He lowered his head in self disgust.

Behind him, Frank climbed through the Portrait Hole, wearing the same, shattered expression.

Alice ran to him, and his fragile, exhausted control broke; he sobbed, quietly, into her shoulder.

"Where's Moony?" James asked, urgently, suddenly beside Sirius. He hadn't even noticed him move.

"In the Hospital Wing," he said, thickly. "Jenny –"

He struggled for a moment, unable to form the appropriate sentence; Remus was right: none of this felt real.

"Jenny's dead," he said, every syllable falling heavily on the room.

James's mouth fell open in disbelief; his best friend stared at him in shock.

Sirius looked around at them all. He had never before felt so utterly, inescapably young.

"_What_?" Lily asked, weakly, stunned out of hovering between her two, stricken friends.

"_How_?" Peter demanded.

"Is Remus alright?" James asked, urgently, clearly trying hard to resist the urge to shake his friend.

"We should talk upstairs," said Sirius, sadly. "McGonagall should be the one to tell the younger ones, not us."

"But-" James sputtered, still trying to process something so unpalatable.

"Sirius is right," said Lily, suddenly business-like; Sirius could see the tears on her face. He gave her a grateful look.

She hurried up to her own dormitory, fetching blankets and bedding while Peter and Alice helped Frank – rendered helpless by grief – up the stairs.

He felt James take his arm, a wonderfully solid presence in a world that seemed to have lost its footing. He leaned on his friend, suddenly aware of how tires he was.

"Are _you_ alright?" he asked in an undertone.

"No," Sirius laughed, and he didn't sound like himself. "I pulled her out – I couldn't – she was already –" He stopped himself, fighting back the sorrow that was trying to force its way out of his chest. "They gave Remus a sleeping potion – he's a mess."

"He's not the only one," James muttered. An uncharacteristically ugly look crossed his features. "We should –"

"We should leave him alone," said Sirius, firmly. "He'll need us soon enough – and we'll be there – but right now he needs to grieve. And sleep."

James nodded, deflating slightly.

"You need to change," he said, eyeing Sirius's ruined clothes. "You're freezing…"

Firmly, he pushed him up the stairs.

0o0

They sat on the ends of their beds, shocked and numb. They had listened, horrified, to Sirius's story, and had all broken down. No one had said anything for some time – there was nothing really left to say.

Lily was still clutching the envelope that Jenny had given her that afternoon. None of them had any doubt about what it contained now: her final goodbyes.

The usually bright and cosy dormitory felt cold and over-bright. They had lit the stove, despite the warmth of the spring evening, and huddled together, desperate for comfort.

It was Alice, in the end, who broke the silence.

"I'm so sorry Frank," she said, quietly. "I should have listened to you."

"We all should have," said James, scrubbing at his red-rimmed eyes – he had discarded his glasses hours earlier, and Sirius was almost certain that he couldn't see. "And to her."

He and Lily had their free arm wrapped around one another, seeking and receiving comfort; Frank and Alice were the same. Sirius felt a wave of irrational jealousy, wanting – with all his heart – someone to tell him that everything would be ok. Even if it wouldn't be, ever again. He pushed it away, guiltily.

"It's not your fault," Frank mumbled, wetly. "It's no-one's really. If what Sirius says is true, there wouldn't have been anything anyone could have done."

_Jenny would have been less miserable_, Sirius thought, unhappily, but he kept his mouth shut. There was more than enough self-disgust in the room as it was.

"Poor Jenny", said Lily, to assorted mumbling.

_Poor Jenny_.

It was going to become a mantra over the last months of school, maybe even for the rest of their lives. She would never be forgotten, Sirius was certain about that.

He had been such a crappy friend while she was alive, he swore to himself he would do his best for her now she was gone. It wouldn't bring her back, and it would never, _ever_ be enough, but it was all that he could do.

He suspected that Jenny would have understood that.

But now he needed to keep his promise to her: the dead could wait for a while – it was Remus that needed him now.

He cleared his throat.

"All the stuff I told you – about Weeping Jade," he said, solemnly. "Remus can never know."

There was an odd silence; his friends looked back at him, weary and nonplussed. Sirius sighed. This was important.

Damage control.

"You know what he's like," he explained. "He's already a complete wreck over Jenny – if he finds out that I believed her and he didn't, he'll hate himself for the rest of his life."

_If he doesn't already_, he added privately.

There were several nods of understanding.

_Good,_ he thought, _that's one…_

"I'll talk to McGonagall and Oakley tomorrow – they'll understand."

He looked at Frank, hating himself for what he was about to suggest.

"Jenny died to save her family," he said, slowly. "And whatever else we remember about her, we have to remember that. If I could choose a way to go, that would be it…"

"Hear, hear," said James, thickly, to murmurs of assent.

"But," he said, and swallowed.

_Man _this was difficult.

He ran his hands through his long dark hair, uncomfortable under their scrutiny.

"But?" asked Frank, a fierce, dangerous glint in the Ravenclaw's eyes.

"Frank, I know she's – was – your best friend, and I don't want to dishonour her – or what she did – but if Remus chooses to believe that she fell… I'm not going to correct him."

There was a pause as the assembled teenagers took this in. Frank stared at him, hurt and hostile.

"It would kill him," Sirius said, feeling deeply ashamed of what he was asking.

Everybody looked at Frank, who eventually nodded.

"One death is enough," he croaked, finally. "And Jenny would have wanted to protect him, too."

Sirius nodded, and they lapsed into silence once more.

After a while, when the first, delicate tendrils of a dawn that their friend would never see began to stain the eastern sky, Peter got up, stretched his tired legs and began rummaging in his bedside cabinet. He emerged, after a few moments, with a nearly full bottle of Firewhiskey.

Lily, who understood the breaking of rules in times of need, conjured six glasses.

"To Jenny," said Peter, raising his glass.

"_To Jenny_."

0o0o0o0

They walked down to the lake together in the gathering darkness, and stood shoulder to shoulder by the edge of the pool that had been described in the inquest.

_You could see why she chose it_, Ron thought, as they stared down at the glassy water. It was almost serene, and very secluded: it was sheltered from the school by a bank of trees and isolated from the rest of the lake by a bank of earth that protruded into the water.

There was a boulder near the water's edge, and it looked like it had been pressed into service as a seat by several hundred generations of Hogwarts students. No one sat out here anymore though… he wondered if it was her, that strange, sad, unearthly feeling that had crept over him as he had approached the water, keeping people away. An odd shiver passed through Ron as he looked at it.

_That must have been where they found her things_, he thought.

According to the report, she had taken off her shoes and socks before stepping into the lake, leaving them with her wand on the shore. It was such a simple act, something completely safe and mundane that out here had rendered her vulnerable and childlike. There had been nothing childish about her decision, though.

She had probably known what was growing inside her, and taken action…

He glanced up at Neville and Harry.

In another world she might have been their favourite Aunt…

They stood, silently together as the light faded and the stars came out. There had been some discussion about what to say, back in the dormitories, but now they were here it didn't seem necessary. In any case, Ron wasn't sure that he could trust himself to speak.

Wordlessly, the three boys raised their wands and mumbled an incantation they had stolen from Hermione. Flowers burst into bloom above the water, floating down to rest on the surface for a few moments before slipping gently beneath the surface.

They watched them fall, one by one, until there were none left.

"We'll never forget you," Ron whispered, softly.

"Ever," Neville mumbled.

As one, they turned and started the short walk back up to the Castle, duty concluded.

Jenny, caught in the midst of an unexpected shower of brightly coloured petals, watched them go, the ghost of a smile on her lips.


	13. Epilogue

'_**Only the dead have seen the end of war' - Plato**_

He watched the spider web of protective charms form above the Castle, only half listening to the chaos around him. The night air was full of shouts and footfalls. He could smell the dread on the people around him, permeating the air like a great, dark cloud.

Witches and wizards of all ages were grimly clattering about, preparing to defend their school, their home: their very lives. They were fighting for a better, fairer world, where people weren't murdered in their homes just because they didn't fit with some maniac's concept of perfection.

They had to.

The alternative, a world without hope, was too appalling to consider.

No.

They would either win the day, or they would die trying.

He watched, sadly, as Arthur Weasley patted Molly on the shoulder, sharing a speaking look with her as he took up his station. Remus inched closer to the man: no one would really miss an ageing, penniless werewolf, but losing Arthur would be devastating. His children and grandchildren needed him to survive, and Remus resolved to do his utmost to see that he did.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean Thomas making his way along the line, handing out Weasley made Shield hats and cloaks to the younger combatants; he nodded to him in the pale light of the magic that was only just holding their enemies at bay and felt a surge of sadness. Dean, like too many of his classmates, had grown up far too quickly.

He sighed heavily, glancing around at the soldiers by his side, lamenting their youth. Children shouldn't have to face things like this… But then, after the year they had had, none of them were really children anymore, anyway.

He looked up as Tonks climbed the ladder to the top of the Clocktower. He stared at her.

What was she _doing_ here? She had two, bright-eyed mischievous, red-headed babies at home, she shouldn't be in a battle.

She caught sight of him as she stood back to let Kingsley pass her and gave him a wry grin that almost reached her eyes, guessing the direction of his thoughts.

He returned it, feeling helpless, and gestured in the direction her husband had hurried off in. She nodded in thanks and ran off, looking for Charlie.

There were too many people here that needed to get home to their families, he mused, as Tonks's brothers in law made their way past him to the battlements, assuring one another that they were both fine and not worried in the slightest.

He felt the corner of his mouth twitch into a brief smile. He was surrounded by extraordinary people: the good, the kind, the peaceful – and all had come out tonight, answering Neville Longbottom's clarion call.

It was uncertain whether any of them would see the dawn.

His thoughts turned to his old friends and he felt a stab of envy; they were all well out of this, either dead, or blissfully unaware. The losses had been so numerous in the past few years, and he didn't feel that he had even begun to mourn them: lovely Lily, with her sharp wit and kind heart; sweet Alice, with her stout heart and innocent gentleness; Frank with his wisdom and patience; James with his loyalty and ferocity; Sirius with his bizarre sense of humour and his strange inner fire; his beautiful, shining Jenny…

He felt his throat constrict as he thought of them, and their offspring. They would have been so very, very proud of them.

He missed them all terribly, even Peter, on the few occasions when he made himself remember the shy, music-loving boy that he had been and not the wretched traitor he had become. He looked out into the grounds, wondering for the hundredth time whether there had been anything he could have done to prevent it – to be a better friend to Peter, the way James and Sirius had been for him – a brother in arms…

He had marvelled at their passing, never understanding why it was that he had been the one to watch them fall, untouched. With every loss, he had known in his heart that it should have been him instead. They had had so much more to lose than he did – their deaths were a waste, while his…

He seemed doomed to linger, watching those he loved fall away from him, one by one, a little piece of himself dying alongside them. Perhaps this was his curse – retribution for what he had done to Jenny, what he had let happen.

Then, as now, he couldn't bear to live without her – without them, and now, as then, he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. For years now he had been hiding behind a duty to Harry and his classmates, putting off the inevitable.

Death, when it came, would almost be welcome.

He caught her sweet scent on the night air, and closed his eyes. He was grateful for her presence, even now, in the midst of war. He risked a glance sideways and was surprised to see her there, pale and transparent in the torchlight of the Clocktower.

She turned to him, expression grim, and he was struck with an awful notion. What would happen to his faithful ghost when he was gone? Would she be trapped here, for eternity, alone?

He would be leaving her all over again.

The pain in her eyes suggested that she had come to a similar conclusion, and he looked away, unable to hold her gaze.

A sharp, insistent wave of cold froze his left hand and brought him back to her: she had taken hold of his hand, looking out across the ranks of armoured statues that had come to the aid of their school in its time of need.

"Will you stay until I'm asleep?" he whispered, voice catching.

"To the end," she said, a single tear rolling down her ice-cold cheek.

0o0o0o0

He'd seen Greyback fall, watching with some satisfaction as the bastard's body was crushed on the rocks below the Castle; someone had thrown him through a window with sufficient force to propel him past the wards and all the way to the very bottom of the gorge below.

He had little time to reflect as he darted here and there about the corridor, parrying curses, leaping over his fallen comrades, too many to number, shoes slipping on the stones beneath his feet, slick with blood. He, along with Kingsley and Arthur, had been forced to beat a hasty retreat as part of the floor of the Clocktower had collapsed following an almighty curse that had – in all likelihood – been deflected from somewhere else. There were limbs sticking out of the rubble now – many of them far too small to belong to adults – but there was too much chaos to check if their owners were still alive. The three men turned their back on their friends, hate and anger sketched on their usually gentle features.

Kingsley was battling two Death Eaters at once, and making it look easy. Remus jumped forward as he felt the bite of cold at his back; he felt a rush of hot, charged air as a curse missed him by a hair and hit one of Kingsley's opponents in the side. The man crumpled instantly, screaming as his skin began to blister and bubble.

She had been at his side all night, moving him to where he needed to be, whether that was out of the way of a curse or to the defence of an ailing friend.

"You have quite some guardian angel," Arthur grunted, pressing his back against Remus's as he fought a vicious little witch who could easily have been part-banshee. He had caught glimpses of her throughout the battle as she darted between the combatants, surprising foes and pushing people out of harms way, curses passing through her harmlessly like bright pulses of light. "Who is she?" Arthur panted.

"My shining girl," he managed to say, deftly returning a hex that would have shattered his ribs. He watched, detached, as his opponent toppled over the battlements, before turning to help Arthur.

The witch had been joined by a hulking man with a balaclava covering his face; he and Arthur staggered backwards against the wall as the attack intensified. Their opponents were grinning in predicted triumph, an eerie silver light building behind them. Both of them shrieked as Jenny walked through them; she applied herself grimly, keeping herself in time with the stumbling steps of the tiny witch, silently freezing the foul woman to death. Remus took the opportunity to finish off the balaclava-ed wizard while he and Arthur were distracted by the witch's desperate screams.

She fell to the floor a few, tortured steps away, ice crystals forming on her blue-tinged skin. Jenny stood above, her, tears mingling with the water cascading from her ruined flesh, hating what battle had forced her to become.

Arthur stared at her in disbelief.

"It's the girl from the photograph!" he gasped, as the fight continued around them. "By Merlin…"

He looked at Remus, who couldn't tear his eyes from her.

"You loved her," Arthur said, understanding crossing his weary features.

"I always will," he said, and the ghost of a smile passed across Jenny's lips.

Abruptly, she frowned.

"There are more coming," she said, and they could hear clearly, even over the noise of the battle, as if she was speaking inside there heads. "Hold the door – I'll try to draw them away."

She flickered out of existence and the two men took her advice, rushing between fighters and over the bodies of children to the door to the staircase. Kingsley followed them, sensing trouble.

The three of them heaved the great, oak door shut, heaping charm after charm on the ancient wood to keep it closed.

"Behind you!" someone shouted, and Remus turned, narrowly avoiding a hex that caught their would-be rescuer directly in the chest. He watched the boy fall, numbly; Colin Creevey, always so fierce and loyal, toppled to the floor before him, his boyish face stained with blood and dirt. He had been seventeen for only three weeks.

He looked up at his murderer, rage and loathing boiling through his veins, and for a moment he forgot he was a wizard at all. Snarling, he leapt towards the unlucky Death Eater, ready to tear him apart; the man fell beneath him, unprepared for such a violent attack.

Remus tore at his flesh, mercilessly, his hands drenched in the man's blood.

If the wolf wanted to join the fight, then that was fine by him.

He felt Arthur and Kingsley pull him away, and he struggled with them for a few moments, until he realised that the man beneath him was dead. He stared at his bloody remains and slumped, disgusted with himself, before pulling himself together.

There would be time for shame in the morning, if they ever saw it.

Now was the time for war.

0o0o0o0

Jenny ran through the packed corridor, charging through Death Eaters and trying to avoid their enemies. She had noted, with some satisfaction, that her passage scattered them like skittles, giving the people fighting them time to defeat them. She was glad that she could help, in any small way.

The Death Eaters she had burst through on the staircase of the Clocktower were still chasing her, enraged that they couldn't kill her; she led them through one of the high colonnades of the building continuing to run on when her footfalls no longer hit the stones beneath her and danced across the night air. Intent on their prey, they followed her, forgetting themselves; they plunged, screaming into the smoke below, and Jenny smiled, grimly.

Fires were breaking out all over the corridor behind her, and she hurried towards them. Fire held no terror for her anymore, since she could neither feel nor be injured, and walking through it a few times with the insatiable cold that clung to her every step made it sputter and die.

Despite the fires, the fighting seemed to have moved away from this part of the school for the moment. She put out another blaze that was threatening to spread to the floor above and hurried around the corner, careening into a group of young wizards, sending them sprawling. She turned to apologise, recognising them, but she didn't get far.

It seemed as if the world had exploded, dust and stones rained through her like great, black hailstones. She staggered backwards in shock as the silence fell around her like a shroud.

"Oh Gods," she gasped, as the smoke began to clear, revealing the body strewn floor.

One by one, the fallen men began to stir, groaning and coughing; they staggered to their feet, winded.

"Everyone in one piece?" George asked, pulling Percy to his feet.

"Just about," his twin replied, squinting at Jenny through the dust. "Don't know who you are, Miss, but thanks."

"_Jenny?_" asked Ron, who – along with Harry – had been staring at her for a full minute.

She nodded, surprised, aware of her wretched appearance.

"Thanks," he said, weakly, as they others watched their youngest brother in confusion.

She nodded and went to turn away, but she paused, cocking her head to the sounds that only she could hear.

"There's another wave coming," she told them, over her shoulder. "And big, ugly spiders… and they're hungry."

Ron paled.

"Get up high," she said. "They'll make easier targets from above. I have to get back to Remus."

She heard them make for the stairs as she shot away, sprinting back through the Castle, taking out as many of the enemy as she could as she went. She caught sight of Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, back to back in a circle of Death Eaters. They were holding their own, two against eight, but their luck would only hold for so long.

She dove towards them, dogging the steps of one Death Eater after another until they fell, screaming in agony, frozen to the core. Neville and Luna made quick work of their remaining foes; they turned to look at her, stunned.

Luna regarded her for a moment and then grinned in a dreamy sort of way.

"You have a kind heart," she said, and moved off to help Ginny and Hermione, who were being pinned down by three more Death Eaters.

Jenny stared after her, astonished.

"Extraordinary," she breathed, and Neville laughed, despite the raging battle.

"Absolutely," he said, and looked as though he would very much have liked to say more, if a war hadn't been going on around them.

Jenny touched his arm and he flinched away from the cold.

"Your father was the best friend I ever had," she blurted, wanting him to know this, taking the last chance they might ever had. "He and Alice would have been so very, very proud of you – no matter what you did, they would have been proud. But today you are fighting like your father did, leading an army, even – and he wouldn't have been able to find the words for how much he loved you, right in this moment."

Neville stared at her, and for a moment he seemed to grow in height.

She left him behind and he turned to rejoin the battle, taller and more ferocious than before.

On the final turn before the staircase to the Clocktower, she ran through Evan Rosier, a cruel boy that had grown into a cruel man, and distracted him enough for Charlie Weasley to get a curse through his defences, leaving him free to tackle another.

He and Tonks were stood shoulder to shoulder, trying to keep the Acromantulas out of the Clocktower; they fired curse after curse into the mass of tangled, hairy limbs until a particularly powerful charm rebounded off the ceiling and collapsed part of the outer wall, burying the spiders.

They took a moment to catch their breath before hurrying away. Jenny carried on to the Tower above, still under bombardment from flying Death Eaters.

She watched in fascination as one of them froze in mid flight before being dematerialised entirely by a grim-faced Arthur Weasley. Remus was beside him, covered in blood that she hoped wasn't his and duelling a ferocious looking Snatcher with deep scars in the place of one of his eyes. She jumped through him, making the big man scream in pain; Remus hit him in the neck with a particularly nasty curse that she suspected had originated with Sirius. The man fell, scrabbling at his throat ineffectually.

Kingsley fell back towards them, and Jenny dodged out of the way, not wanting to distract him with her icy grip. He, Remus and Arthur backed tightly together, defending one another from the furious onslaught. It was, in its own way, a marvel to watch; they were too close to the Death Eaters for Jenny to intercede, and she watched, helpless as hexes flew around them like a great net of light.

A shout rang out from the far end of the gantry, and she pelted along it, startling a Death Eater so much that he plunged out of one of the gaping holes in the wall of the tower. He and four of his friends had been duelling Dean Thomas, and the young man's arm hung uselessly at his side; Jenny ran at them, shrieking.

The nearest Death Eater flailed ineffectually at her as she proceeded to freeze him; Kingsley's booming voice sounded behind her as he came to the aid of his young friend.

Arthur cried out and she hurtled back towards him, having evened the odds sufficiently for Dean. He had fallen through one of the gaps in the wall, and was holding on for dear life, his wand just beyond his reach; Remus was fighting hard, trying to reach him.

Jenny pushed her way through the Death Eaters, trying to buy the moments Remus needed to pull his friend to safety; they leaned against the balustrade, panting as the Death Eaters fled from her gnawing cold.

Remus sent a curse at one that had just joined the fight, dropping down from a broom through a hole in the roof; he moved to intercept him, and Arthur bent to retrieve his wand, ready to help.

She felt it build in the air before it happened, and she pushed herself in front of Remus, for all the good that would do.

An explosion of latent magic ripped through the Clocktower, like an enormous bubble of heat; it shattered the gantry, leaving Arthur at one end and Dean and Kingsley at the other.

Remus and Jenny, caught in the middle of the thing, were thrown backwards with the force of it. They bounced like ragdolls on the stone ledge at the far end of the Clocktower.

She felt the heat of the magic scorch her and she screamed in agony, the power of the explosion ripping through her like barbed wire. She climbed to her knees, dizzy and frightened.

Remus was lying beside her, broken and bloodied. She knew without checking that he was dead, his sightless eyes staring up at her in the dim, battle-torn light. She reached out to him in horror, still shaking with the shock of feeling that the explosion had rent in her. Her hand hovered above his face; she longed to shake him, to beg him to wake up, but she knew it was too late. She had known before this battle had begun that it would be his last.

The man she had loved even beyond her own death was gone.

She watched in fascination as droplets of water hit his skin; puzzled, she looked up, but all there was above them was smoke and stone.

She cried out in unfamiliar pain and clutched her neck; this time, her hand came away bloodied. She stared at it, transfixed, as the blood and water ran off her hand. Her chest burned, and she gasped for the breath she hadn't needed in twenty years; panic seized her, and she struggled against a fresh wave of pain.

She was drowning, she realised, in the midst of her agony. Whatever had kept her in the lake was losing its hold, defeated by the sheer force of magic that had passed through her.

Jenny collapsed to the floor, weak with pain and fear; with her last ounce of strength she scrabbled in the dirt to find Remus's hand, refusing to let go of him until her strength left her and the darkness took her.

0o0o0o0

It was so dark.

He'd tried opening his eyes, but it hadn't made much of a difference. Perhaps he'd been buried – the explosion had caught him off guard, and had been big enough to throw him across the room – it must have taken out part of the ceiling. He tried to move, but he couldn't feel anything.

He hoped the others were ok…

The sounds of the battle were more distant now, and he tried again to move.

Nothing.

He frowned, puzzled.

After an explosion like that he would have expected a significant amount of pain…

He chuckled as realisation dawned.

_So this is what dying feels like_, he thought. He relaxed against the tide of numbness that surrounded him, guiltily grateful to whoever had unleashed that last, fatal curse. He thought he should probably feel ashamed at the relief he felt, but nothing really seemed to matter any more.

The sounds around him were distorting oddly. He thought he caught a bark of laughter somewhere nearby… a few bars of violin music… someone's footsteps.

The smells were changing too: singed stone and blood were becoming fresh, clean air and – he sniffed – fire and meat… a barbecue?

He frowned at himself; perhaps his mind was fragmenting as he died…

There was a pressure on his body now that he hadn't felt before, as though he was lying on the ground.

The scent of sweet summer grass took hold of his consciousness; he could feel the blades of it, pressing gently against his skin.

There was the laughter again, closer now, and more voices together. Madly, he wondered who would be having a party – perhaps he was unconscious – yes, he was unconscious and they had won! The victory party must be happening…

But why would anyone hold a victory party in the Hospital Wing?

_No_, he reasoned, _I must be dead…_

Warm fingers closed around his hand and he froze.

"Shh," someone said, and he breathed in her cotton and soil scent as if it was manna from heaven. "It's alright now…"

He opened his eyes again, and this time there was sunlight – a warm breeze – blue skies above – and her.

His shining girl.

Right there, in front of him.

He reached up as her golden hair fell around him and tucked a strand of it behind her ear.

A smile broke out across her face – a real one, that stretched right up into her eyes; he skimmed his fingers across her perfect neck as she bent down to kiss him, pressing her warm lips to his cheeks, his eyes, his mouth.

He grinned up at her as she finally pulled away; he could hear Sirius saying something lewd, somewhere nearby, and heard the tell-tale thwack of Lily hitting him over the head for it.

Jenny smiled down at him and he hoped that she could stay like this forever: his shining girl.

Finally, he was home.


End file.
